a bird's nest. the mama bird was up on a power line, watching our every move as we climbed into the bushes to see the nest. all i could think about was beginnings, renewal, and ambition.
ambition?
yes, ambition. all these precious little baby birds aspire to do is live. that's their biggest goal, and i hope they reach it. i have a lot of goals, too. i'm about to graduate college, so, in a sense, i'm incubating in my little childlike egg, waiting to explode into complete adulthood. i'm scared. i'm perched on a wavering branch, too. i've built my nest over so many years of school, work, and being responsible. the film of my egg is starting to weaken. the cold outside air feels rough in my tender nose. things, friends, are getting real.
but, this nest also made me feel that inescapable rush of excitement that comes with hatching. once i'm out, i can eat, breathe, experience on my own. i can make other nests, visit other trees. and, here comes the unavoidable cliche--i can fly.
okay, maybe that cliche was avoidable, but i didn't want to avoid it. even poets have to stumble through cliches. they're a part of life, people. get over it.
small, beautiful moments like seeing a bird's nest really make a girl appreciate things. standing above the fragile little nest, carefully placing my phone between the leaves to take the photo, watching for mama bird, i felt a strange power. not a crazy, 'i'm-gonna-kill-these-precious-eggs' power, but the power to appreciate life. this is the power people often ignore or neglect. i know i neglect it--i'm such a busy bee, i hardly have time to appreciate the softness of the couch at the end of the day. but, i'm learning to stop and let the breeze cool me, let the grass under my feet amaze me.
baby birds, i hope you grow up to build your own nests and raise other birds. i hope you love the cool, swift cushion of wind under your wings. i hope you step out of those shells and open your little eyes to the bright big world.
until next time,
a.
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