abbey-cerebrum

February 5, 2025

She sang songs for a while, softly, and listened to the cries of birds, unknown and unseen birds, off in the forest, retreating to their nests for the night, heads nestled under fold of wing, retiring into the simple harmless dreams of avian sleep. (A bird has no cerebrum.)

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Thought:

“The yoke uneasy on the ox doth sit
Till by degrees his stubborn neck does bow.
So Love’s opposers do at last submit
And gladly drudge at the accustom’d plough.”

Philip Ayres | “Fair and Softly”

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