Suspended between day and night, she melts into a sky full of more reds and yellows than her mind can contain. Sitting up in a tree, perfectly relaxed in this risk. But the canaries? No. They are not at all relaxed and melted into the vast poetry of the sky. No way. They worry. They worry, like most birds… in non-sequiters—in group speak non-sequiters. It looks something like: *&^ she –) brown hair *& good for nest(*&&%^ why (**%$ fall and THUMP!!! **&^ she shouldn’t (*& NO *&^% she needs &&*&to get (**^% down.. (*& does she (**&^ where’s her ((*&^ have a home? &&^% treehouse????…
And they go on like this in their fractured and numerous, jittery thoughts. While she sighs in the sounds of their chirps—certain they are singing to her. That they love her company as she melts her worries into the red sky, high up in a tree between day and night.
My note: Maybe they take up all the worry for her so that she can rest?