Birdsong sweetly bathes my soul,
reminding me to live.
They tweet and chirp, my bird friends,
not knowing the joy they give.
Their songs bring a peaceful sound,
into the saddest days,
reminding me that life is good,
and true in many ways.
Their melodies and pitches keep my heart awake.
Like little rays of sunshine,
the sounds of warmth they make.
Sometimes I get so busy and caught up in my own mind.
Their blessed sounds and soulful tweets
are a way to just remind;
That life is full of distractions,
within and some without.
Itʼs worth our while
to stop and smile,
Our busyness to doubt.
I often wonder what they say,
the birds that speak to me.
What are they shouting to the world?
What could their message be?
I long to show my gratitude—for their unending song.
I feed them and I watch them and appreciate their throng.
The flash of color through my trees,
the sound of chirp and feather.
I see them stop to feed themselves in seasons change and weather.
I watch them fly and wonder how great that skill must be,
to glide and soar and feel the wind,
alive and flying free.
This poem is my birdsong and I fly with pen and page.
Reminding all to hear the call,
of the bird, our wondrous sage.
We may not know his language or what his tunes all mean,
but if we stop to listen, his message we can glean.
From all the things that worry us and make us loose our sight,
let the reassuring birdsong give us strength and might.
Let’s stop to hear the birdsong and its blessed relief,
let it bathe us in contentment,
removing all our grief.
Let it be a sweet reminder to live and love this life,
that’s full of sweet melodious sounds amid the pain and strife.
Lets celebrate the birdsong and together thank our friends,
Who soar and tweet with happy sounds, their gift that never ends.
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Assistant Ed: Leace Hughes/Ed: Bryonie Wise
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July’s Full Moon in Capricorn: The Heart wants what it Wants. The 4 Stages of a Good Divorce. How to Love a Woman who Scares You. Our Soulmates are Rarely Who We Expect. I Still Think of You. Men, Let’s Stop Fooling Ourselves: Size Matters. To the One Who Tried to Break Me. An Open Letter to the Fixers. How your Stored Memories in the Amygdala can lead to PTSD. How My Sister’s Death Transformed my Self-Perception.