by Jessica Huckabay
(Evie is assisting Jessica publish her work on the blog) Infinite song cascades through the air
From your breathy perch In the high green branches You don’t seem to care That your feathers are brown And non-descript
That you don’t stand out from the other birds That the hole you managed to carve out In the trunk of the tree for you nestles smaller, lower down, inconveniently angled You sing all day anyways
Infinite swelling and overflowing Of silken ambrosial petals From your thorny canes Without a care for the cobwebs Lacing through your browning leaves
As the leaves fall And the nights grow cold You care not that you will soon be naked And trembling in storm winds For your roots reach deep Into your abundantly
generous mother’s body Finding warmth and nourishment there
And though this particular songbird might fly farther south Those who spend the summer farther north Will come here and keep those nests warm And the air filled with infinite song
Without a care that someone else carved the hole in the treeI offer seeds to the singers Blood to the bloomers Trim back the thorny canes for renewal
Grant permission for these transients
To reside in these trees
Or perhaps they grant me permission to reside Under them Yes, that’s more like it
Those who sing every day And know how to share Have more ownership of a place
Than those who have forgotten how to sing And are crippled by greed
I choose the wisdom of the songbirds The love of roses Remembering to focus on giving Whatever is most precious within me Letting its colors, aroma, and melody Ring through the day
Every day
Jessica Huckabay is the founder of the Womb Centered Healing Temple and hosts Writing from the Womb Workshops weekly. Learn more about this and other offerings by exploring this site.
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