Little birds.

We are broken birds that crumple when we flutter down to the Earth. You envelop me in your wings and together we are closer to one whole thing.

We live in nests to hide from the sky, we are convenient, and it’s been so long that neither of us ask why. 

Feathers all around, you’re warm, I sing, it’s a comfort to know we both fell down. 

Baby bird, in your nest, I love you so and we’ve made quite a mess. Where do we go when we’ve clipped our wings, when we can’t fly but want taller trees? 

Broken bird, I love you so, but it’s time to migrate, it’s time to go. 

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