They aren't startled when even the thinnest branch bends,
nor are they surprised when it doesn't break
They leave one branch,
stretch their wings to another,
and quietly alight on a third,
struck a silent sitar
They are full of all kinds of music
They pick grains and dissolve
like blood in the tree's veins
They fly en masse into the sky,
spreading the chirps of liberation,
and touch the earth again,
creating rainbows of their intimacy
They build their nests
in the tree's most sensitive place,
where they store their share
of untouched love
They are the vitality of spring,
the rise of autumn,
and the living purpose of life
Thank you so much for reading. Have a great day 馃槉馃檹 
