She made me
a birdhouse
from old wood
whispering stories.
Together
we walked to
the edge of
my open field.
She dug
the post in,
creative hands
working
rich soil.
I witnessed
with a grateful heart…
I wondered then
who would come
to nest in this
forest jewel…
dreamed of wrens
or chickadees
peering out
of black holes…
This morning
I realized
that by our actions
we had created
a living prayer…
Like the birds
we too
are seeking
safe homes –
peace for
tortured
minds and
bodies
torn asunder
by a culture
gone insane.
Great and touching piece! 🙂
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thanks Tom…. there was something about that birdhouse gift – and you got it! So satisfying when someone does!
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