A bird cried again in some far off place, pulling his gaze up to the distant trees and the sky beyond.

When the bird cried in the distance again, he roused himself and looked at Roland.

Not a dog barked, no wild bird or beast cried.

I may as well have been hearing frogs scream or birds crying.

A single bird cried; Keman didn't know what kind it was.

The bird cried above them; transfixed, they followed it with their eyes.

In the distance, a bird cried, then fell silent.

Outside the bedroom window, even though first light still had not touched the eastern sky, a bird cried.

The sun is shining, a tropical bird cries somewhere in the distance and the cares of the working world seem a million miles away.

And still the land was silent; not even the wild birds cried a welcome.