Seeing you there, sat tight in the branches, unaware of my eyeline, or of the creator, watching your every swoop, feeling each tiny beat of the seed-small heart in your brown feathered breast, I wonder. Am I really worth more than you? My heart swells with love even as yours does with song, soft and sweet. Despite your muted markings, you seem like a pearl of great price to me, lost in a maze of kelpish magnolia branches, and at the moment of sight, I’d willingly sell all to keep it.
Photo and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017