Wings Open

Every day I stood near the threshold. I knew then my wings were too weak to try and fly away, So I didn’t. I ran about the nest, fluttering, whistling, mimicking the mother bird, until my throat could hold a sweet, melodic tune, until my beak was as smooth as winter or mother’s gentle cradling touch, until I had seen all I could. Above me, a mass flock of older birds. Was I ready to join? No. I knew it wasn’t my time. Longer I waited, and waited, and waited. Today, I stand at the threshold. I know now my wings are ready to take flight. Do I dare join the others? No. Too easy. I’ll find my own path, my own way. I take that fateful leap, and let my lungs and my resilient wings fill with this new-found freedom.