Thieves

Greedy birds. Almost thieves. But we put out seed and they come. More come. Doves, red and brown finch-like ones that I can’t put a name to. The only ones I know for sure are the cardinals, Blue jays. The big names.
Yesterday morning, I felt love’s vein. Someone’s pain down my arm. There’s so much we can’t fix. There’s so much I want to. But I held her. Made my mom’s french toast – sourdough and cinnamon. Warm syrup. I gave her a small cup of blueberries, strong coffee. It’s not enough, but just.

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