“Soar,” they said.
Just as I raised my eyes from the dirty mug in the sink.
Just in time to see
Formation outside the window.
Not the usual birds from around here.
They spoke of different places – earthy forests, cozy hearths.
Like visitors from parts afar, come to be a guide to follow.
They banked right, fully synchronized, just as they began to pass outside the range of the pane of glass.
I wanted to take a picture, to show you who are here.
But, they asked me to paint their picture in words instead.
Half their tribe were feathered in black, the other half wore all white plumage – reminding me of the dichotomy of every hard situation.
Reminding, as well, that in order to soar, we must be free to fly.