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.