song is a salve

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Rasping, gurgling,
twittering, piping,
the mountain birds
declare themselves.
Shouting from cliff
to distant slope
like dwellers in the Valley
of a Thousand Hills.

 Their songs delight.
I do not judge
the cadence or
the melody,
touched as I am
by their candour,
the utter exuberance
of delivery.

 Song is a salve
to heal the heart.
Imperfection
is no excuse.
So lift your head,
allow your song
to overflow in a stream
of self-compassion.

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