Not Something I'm looking for

I indulge myself in morning meditations.
A few warblers as tiny as my index finger
sing continuously
twirling behind one another,
flitting from one branch to the next.
My balcony is what they find next,
their song feels like music to my ears.
There are a few other birds as well,
cooing and singing
as they sip water from the pot
I've kept in my balcony,
But the warblers stand out.
This has now become my
unlikely morning routine.
I don't need no fancy walks into the forest,
just a corner to sit in
as the sunshine falls upon and
listen to the warblers sing.