On Audio --> Here
Sometimes
the obscurest birds
sing
the most beautiful songs.
Like a child,
placing blocks,
worn,
letters faded, atop another.
Oh . . . so carefully.
Or in the kitchen,
where one woman,
beautiful,
with her hair tied back,
cooks
and silently hums to herself,
her family, waiting,
in the other room.
And the man,
viewing his child below him,
placing worn blocks with such intent
then shifting his gaze to the back of his wife,
in the kitchen,
standing.
And there is no music.
No words are spoken.
It is simply understood
that sometimes
the obscurest birds
sing
the most beautiful songs.
© Susan Marie and Shivpreet Singh
*Shiv said to me, "Sometimes the obscurest birds sing the most beautiful songs."
