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Blessed Birds

It’s said that life is suffering, yet birds
That come to my backyard don’t suffer so.
They seem quite happy, speaking, not with words,
But songs, of chirps and whistles – they don’t know
What lies in store for them – each day they go
About their business with no thought of what
May come. And when in winter, chill winds blow,
They don’t complain, nor when the wind blows hot.
Perched in a tree, the future matters not –
They sing, for they are blessed with tiny brains;
Have not the power to worry, plan or plot.
It’s true they look bedraggled when it rains,
But soon they shake their feathers and they’re dry.
And though they don’t think deeply…..they can fly.

{Photo – D.N. O’Brien}