My Bird

Blue-bird, black-bird, my Bird, nesting in gossamer dreams. She preens her iridescent  wings, down to her soft, dark downy. She is a songbird belting out her alto melodies, low and soulful. She sees “Good Day Sunshine” through her big expressive olive eyes. The world is full of wonder and possibilities, it is hope and happiness. Mother henning, she folds her fairy, fauna and flora friends under her. Fussing and clucking, listening and doling out her morsels of wisdom. Blue-bird, black-bird, my bird, jesting and conspiring silly schemes.

Written for and about my daughter, Birdie, when she was about ten.


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