Mockingbird dreams

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What is it like to be the bird on the flag pole?

The highest perch yet unsteady footing on the rain-covered metal. 

Feels like life.

The crow and the mockingbird don’t seem to mind the rain. Discarded french fry in the parking lot a greater treasure than the bother of wet feathers. 

Feels like life.

If a crow delivers a message from a mockingbird … is it truth?

That thought makes me laugh. A small-smiled, smirk of a laugh. My insides finding mirth in my process. The endless flow of wonder that occupies my mind more than reality.

Where did she go? The girl who loves to fall down rabbit-holes and drink possibility… she fell, forgot and became caught up in life. 

It’s what we do when we forget our muchness.

Wait

Here I am. 

Bringing my life into my dreams. Writing. Writing. My elixir of truth. Pages of wonder. 

Feels like living.

Every day that it’s cloudy I say how much I love it. The rain, the cold… they deserve to be talked about. Is it the snuggling in blankets, warm sweater, heavy socks? Is it the hiding away which I truly love?

The chance to hide. 

Here I seek.

Ready or not here I come.

I envy the sun on cloudy days, he doesn’t have to please anyone.

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