346 days tucked up inside.
Born on a bright blue- blue bird kinda day.
Only odd-cadenced birds,
Ones my ears had never heard before,
Never having had the chance to listen,
woke me yesterday morning.
To this, also.
This brown bundle of newness,
Who was separated from her mother,
After the confusion of birth
Left her for naught in the boy's pen,
But to bear witness to the reunion fraught with the sweet smells of knowingness!
And the immediate recognition of where to find the source of life.
And how to seek the comfort,
From the mother you had grown your spirit in.
The solace of a birth, be it human or not,
is undeniable. As is the desire
to smile brilliantly at the prospect of a life
already born a star.