There was a bird
with feathers so delicate
they looked like silk,
in the night sky
the feathers would glisten
like they were kissed by stars.

The bird would chirp and sing
from an old tree branch
it would stand on the very edge
singing songs sometimes sweet
sometimes filled with pain,
songs so deep
the bird’s chest would puff out
with ruffled feathers
that looked like wool
the kind that keeps you warm
in the coldest winter night.

There was a bird
that simply lived
quite satisfied
with an external manifestation
of internal beauty.

– Vanessa Hernandez