Three months ago, I carved reality. A bird sanctuary. My backyard transformed.

Mornings come alive. Chirps break the silence. Feathers paint the air.

Sparrows perch boldly. Finches add splashes of color. Crows watch, knowing.

I observe. They flit and dance. A wordless conversation.

Joy nests in tiny moments. In wing-beats and trills. In the spaces between.

This habit grounds me. Anchors my wandering mind. Birds don’t judge. They exist.

Every dawn, a small miracle unfolds. In chirps and flutters. Right outside my door.

I tend to them. They, unknowingly, tend to me.

Joy. Simple. Profound. A sanctuary for my soul.