"Who knows if birds are not a collection of all our sorrows" Colette Marin-Catherine
Last night I cried in my dreams because of stories
pasted together from small moments of my day
pain too deep to admit, rejection, fear
In the darkness of 5 am, birds sing
How do they know when it is the right time to begin?
Their compositions signal that they exist
I hear their conversations but do not understand
But that is not why they are here.