[se] and the birds still sing

Lena

hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul

Perhaps it could decorate her new apartment. Give a little highlight and life in the otherwise blank space, since moving, since trying to salvage whatever remained. She didn’t give it any thought thereafter, snagging at a few odds and ends to trade out of her basket. Thereafter, she had herself a new carving, and content, she placed it within her wares – only then noticing someone else nearby.

With a wave in response, she snorted a little inwardly, ashamed she hadn’t realized he was there earlier. She turned to join him a moment later, the warm smile returning to her features. “Hello Darkeye. I hope you’re faring well?” Maybe he’d advanced on his schemes and areas of neutrality.

and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all