Why have I so often interpreted
frustration, disquiet and anger,
as lack of confidence,
When a bird pushes
her fine, frail fledgling,
from the patiently feathered nest,
she would feel I presume,
even if just in a
"pure evolutionary sense",
just at the
"biological instinct" level,
a terror and reluctance
at the sheer impossibility of her task.
The child she has nurtured,
fed with her own vomit,
now has to be kicked out
into the wide, wild world.
To test her strength against
and that heartless bitch, gravity.
She doubts not her flesh and blood,
but the universe she will descend into.
expecting doubt, trial and despair,
and only the survival of the fittest.
Unless your wind opens her wings,
carries her off,
on warm currents,
to a safe and happy haven.
Bless your wind.