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Do you think the birds sing to each other, calling, serenading, pleasing each other with sound, or do they sing to us, asking us to listen to something outside of ourselves, something so beautiful calling, calling, calling, for us to wake up and praise the glory of the day.

I don’t own them, the birds, and they owe me nothing. Yet, they give me the gift of their sound on most days. Here, in the sunny climate, they sing year round.  I can choose to close the window and shut them out, but I open it wide and listen to their songs.

The birds don’t judge me by the color of my skin, by my disability, by my gender. They don’t grow silent, because I don’t suit the chosen standards. They have no chosen standards.

They’ll sing for you, for me, for the people sleeping on the street. They’ll sing for the good hearted as well as the bad.

They’ll sing the same song when our hearts are breaking as when we are feeling happy with the world we inhabit and our place in it.

Sing birds, sing!

Sing your songs of joy and passion. Wake us up from our state of sleep. Call us out of our own minds. Help us to celebrate every day as you do.

Let us be more like you, giving our gifts freely and consistently to everyone who can hear.

Let us call, as you do, the rise of morning.

Let the new day fill us with its promise and possibilities.

Let us be fully awake to the marvelous, to the sacred, to humanity.

Let us live as the birds, singing, for whatever their purpose, it is magnificent.