Lately, my healing and laughter have been tended to by a host of mockingbirds. They seem to know that I need the company and that now isn't the time for me to be alone.
I envy them, those master linguists of the feathered fowl. They seem to be trying to tell me something; like, your words have meaning. Speak them. Sing them. Perform them. They tenderly encourage me to use my voice by singing to me in the light of their grand talent.
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