Early morning birds create Jackson Pollock mad splatters of melody on the canvas of quiet air. With their vibrant voices come a sky bluer than blues, a new day painted with rhythms that stick to the ribs when all else leaves one hungry and searching for more. When the voice bone is connected to the breath bone is connected to the soul bone, morning birds banish all cages. No excess feathers weigh them down. The song alone is their flight into the alive.