songbirds don’t drift
it was a bittersweet start to the day - two songbirds’ melodies accompanied my morning routine, yet an underlying unease was pulling around the corners of my eyes.
barefoot on freezing concrete, i watched a crow try to play with a galah, cawing and cooing. other birds joined - parrots and smaller varieties. one bird calls out a ‘hew,’ waits two seconds, then finishes with a ‘hoo’ - i still haven’t seen it.
later, ‘happy song’ by ‘songbird' (nanna, before 'of monsters and men') played on random. her feminine, rusty voice - strumming heart-written lyrics on an acoustic guitar.
in both moments, jealousy rose in me.
envy of those who are fully present - friends pointing out a nearby kangaroo while i drift on the road and in my head, later chiding myself for not being able to switch off.
envy of artists who simply act. nanna, in her early twenties, had music to share and took the leap to perform.
i realize now this emotion had consumed me - watching others connect deeply to each other and the world, compelled to share their heart.
was it a cycle - jealousy blocking connection, connection blocked by jealousy.
it doesn’t matter to me now. i choose to write, to share, to love - to be inspired by bird songs and cute singers.