daily bread

mid morn—
kitchen window opens its eyes—
charming our nest into song frenzy—
front door reveals a friend
trying to mimic our chirp—
“Morning, pretty birds!”
our hearts beat past our wings
as wild seed fills our aerial bowl
and garnishes the feet of our tree—
“Enjoy, pretty birds!”
once again so good be life—
‘tis breakfast in Vale of Spring

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