He should be flying

He should be flying

The downy feathers, long shed

Litter the nest

Soft snow about his feet

Watching his kin

Wheel and soar

A couple of his cousins fell

Plummeting in a lonely spiral down

To the valley below

They dropped so far he could barely see the distortion

Of their outline

The scarlet halos about their heads

He knows the rub

Is not a fear of flying

But the knowledge it might

Bring about his dying

That holds him to it

Keeping him crouched up tight

Back against the wall

There are so many ways

To reach an end

He is safe here

On the ledge

Death may come from above

Where the Raptors swoop

To bring a silent conclusion

Without the pain of falling

But here he can see what lies ahead,

In the big wide space

In flight, a strike, unseen

Will be his undoing

And what happens then?

Nothing comes to mind

It is this he finds disturbing

The blackness of the night

The dying of the light

Too late, he knows as surely as the rising

It will come,

Regardless of his fear

Not today perhaps or tomorrow

But someday

How much sooner will it be

If he can keep away from flying

How will he stay fed

His parents have already flown

They might yet be dead

Dad’s tail feathers were turning grey

At the tips

He joked it was distinguished

A signifier of maturity and strength

Oh how he wished to see him now

One last time

To help him with this decision

To stay or go

To risk and die

To soar and fly

Or to sit atop this stony shelf

And wait for fate

To help him float away