Bountiful Bird

I have so much adoration for the bird singing in the rain

Her feathers drenched heavy and stiff

Making even the slightest movement difficult! taking much effort

Her body pelted; by cold, hard water

Feeling like pebbles dropping from the open sky

The physical discomfort she feels does nothing to discourage the parts of her

Which cannot be touched by worldly events

May we all give an Amen to the silent, secret places in us all

The parts of us on reserve for on The Holy and Other Worldly

Holding on to the branch tight while the wind howls and bobs her about

A word about being in uncomfortable spaces…

She is alive! And for Being, she is profoundly grateful

So sing, she does

Singing her song

Caring not if it is beautiful

Caring not if others understand it

She sings her song as the rain continues to confront her

Her song

Hers’ alone

Singing as she was called to do

Knowing the storm will pass

I have so much adoration for the bird singing in the rain

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