Restored

How sweet it is

to breathe again

the dawn chorus.

Light swooping

and soaring

as the night

is pulled back

on a morning

feather soft.

Clouds cotton

candy concertos

on a May stage

where the starlings

sing of faraway

solar systems.

The shadow

of fear evaporates,

dew on the grass,

as I return from that

broken silent land

of the sick.

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