The Silence almost killed her soul

There was Nothing on the radio at the ungodly hour of 5 am. She put some warm clothes on, and stepped out into the chilled December air.

Suddenly, the natural cacophonic music of seven black birds was heard overhead . The music pierced the air with a sudden rush of kindness, a true soul connection.

The connection dissolved any uncertainties (like tears in the earth) of silence's attempt to create a kind of jailhouse blues riff-- 'too early in the morning to call anyone.'

Freedom from being weighed down with ill-fitting thoughts-
reinvigorates the grey dying swan sarabande

lightens her dancing feet with a more natural fire engine red ruddy glow
one of understanding, one we can all sing and dance to-
a spot light in the wings seems to know