Bless Her Heart! Even Haggard Praise is Beautiful
Bless her heart. She was a haggard little thing. Tan and crimson feathers were askew, falling out, barely hanging on. Molting? Maybe. I’m not sure. What I am sure of is how she spoke to me this morning.
A birdfeeder sits right by my window beside the couch where I enjoy my quiet time in the mornings. From this vantage point, I can watch the world awaken with its dawning light, its mist lifting over the creek, its air filled with birdsong.
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