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A blue jay song bird in my bedroom

its singing sounds like bells ringing

in the wind, mid June.

I thought it a miracle to have landed 

on my windowsill, next to me, 

though it did not stay for long and 

I did not ask when the next time would be —

as it sang a brief song in the light of 

that orange afternoon. 


But if there comes a time again 

when that blue jay song bird 

returns to my home —

on any plain half hour of the day

or slow-motion minute at night — 

it’s a prayer to be said that 

it returns with the same sincerity,

and finds its way, again.


 
 
 

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