It was the birds that woke her in the morning
And sang her lullabies at night.
The birds who danced about her fingers
While she hung the wash up, crisp and white.
They carried to her blooms in spring
And berries in the fall.
They lifted her when she was weary
And laughed with her when she felt tall.
They perched on sills at night
And nestled soft in her dreams.
They slayed her dragons while she slept
And whispered strange and lovely things.
When skies were heavy and she cried,
They cooed melancholy too,
While they sat together under branches where
The cold and quiet rain fell through.