Feathered whispers sway beneath

the weight of sweet breezes.

Crystal mornings bloom through

the crease between horizon and sky,

shaping crescents of golden sunlight

onto the patches of blossoming flowers,

braiding the floating fog

with the gleam of dawn.

The little bird’s symphony flows through

the fluid wind, painting the world

with warm beaks and bashful chirping,

portraying that a pillow with soft rain drew near.

The song dances over great mountains

and the might of seas

to preach ailments to the mute

and show mercy to the predator,

so that every beat of heart is granted

the blessing of a beautiful dream.

A dream and the song of the bird.