In the city that doled out miracles,
The robins came to rest
Hoping not for a handout,
But for a horizon that grew brighter and brighter
The more they batted their wings
And I breathed quietly in my bed,
Stale breath
In a deep sleep
They thrashed in their trussing,
Agitated as the miracles ran through loose, soft fingers,
Their were feet stained with mud,
Brown scales peeling
As they wept
My eyes fluttered open,
Vision hazy with the gauze of sleep,
And I saw a glowing little miracle at the foot of my bed
I picked it up,
And fell back into slumber
With it clutched to my chest
In silence
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