there are 3000 feathers
on a songbird
i wish i could fly
but that’s a lot of cleaning to do, isn’t it?
this is a hard, cold morning
it doesn’t lead to much hope
my love? my love for you is like the breeze
that goes against a bird, flying higher
born to count feathers, mostly
but never believe angry beaks
were you ever like me?
full of fear and diminishing failures…
twelve thousand feathers on 4 birds fly away
a failing body rises (oh i’m weak!)
to go inside and begin doing the dishes