There will be twelve single birds. only twelve. Isolde is the eleventh bird in this collection.

"What a lovely day" said Isolde, wise against a breeze. A friend lands. "Are you saying what a lovely day" they ask. "I am" replies Isolde. "Do you think they will believe you?" asks the friend. "I hope they might, do you think they might not?" says Isolde with a gloom. "It is my thinking" says the friend "that this is not a breeze" Isolde, unable to look about, sighs. "If it is not a nice day then what is it?" says Isolde to herself. The friend seems to be comfortable and sings a little for her. Isolde is happy that she can hear the song and waits for an answer. The friend quiet for a moment, and then. "We are not here... they look at us and we are there" Isolde puzzles before her understanding leans in. "Only here can have a breeze!!" she shouts.

Her friend sings again. There is perhaps a sky. It doesn't matter really.