The next morning

on the top
the bird is perched

above the sky
amongst a cat-shaped cloud
it sings a melody
that rains down
upon the jaded world

it is heard
by a tall banker
he closes shop
shuts down fees
opens his eyes
afraid
of what he sees
he is on his knees

he prays
up to that same
periwinkle
sky
the bird hears him

the next tune
is for him
he hums along
moves away

the next morning
he sits atop
his humble cabin
prays up
to the periwinkle
sky

and sings along
with the birds' hymn

and the next and next