The little crowd of feathered optimist blackbirds swooped and glided into the warm morning light.
I think they were showing off to the sparrows.
They hop along the railing, waiting for the bread I set on the windowsill every morning.
Confident that breakfast will simply appear.
They trust that I’ll provide for them, and that trust feels like its own small comfort.
Their chatter rises loud and bright, reminding me how even the darkest birds can make an ordinary day feel extraordinary.
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