Freedom

Freedom The tiny bird flies into the sunlight just like the Great Heron who owns the still blue waters and who sometimes follows me on my walks - “Spirit Animal,” my cousin tells me “Clever Animal,” my conscience hails me - both of them beating their wings in the dew morning (or is it in their new mourning?) for dear life or dear love I haven’t discovered which and it’s possible neither have they And I keep on thinking maybe I should try it - unfurl my tightly folded up arms I’ve held so close to my wild free heart (or is it broken heart?) - and seek the heat of something new and larger than my shape All of us cast different shadows - the thin blade of a hummingbird makes less shade than the eagle with its soaring canopy of cool relief in July screaming “Freedom!” screaming “Feed ‘em!” dreaming “Need ‘em…” while the little birds’ wings beat quietly almost politely sweltering sheltering sometimes peltering those who never appreciate their hard work Listen to me: You can live a thousand years and it will never change - a bird is a bird is a bird - yet all birds need the same warmth from the sun Don’t we? #SundayMorningOffering

(Photo: Jerri Lynn Sparks, Edgartown, Martha's Vineyard Island, Massachusetts, 2018)