A Feather In My Coffee

I am thankful for birds.
How else would I know
when I’m disturbed;
when I’m stuck in my thoughts.
Those pretty calls,
short notes,
soothing squalls;
Feathers on pain,
riding a wall of rain.
They lift me up
above myself
and pick the grubs
from my eyelids.
“Be at peace” they chirp.
“It’s all okay” they say.

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