I look up. A shorebird soars wings stretched from east to west, effortlessly rising on cool mountain air. I imagine myself flying with him so effortlessly, so free.
Stretched out so wide bones are nearly out of joint, no longer crammed into such a small suffocating place. Would it be a dream to be so free?
Our domesticated existence provides its comforts, but can it provide true life? Will I ever fly if I never leave the ground? Do I determine it to be too cold or too hard? Have I become so soft as to not be able to stand on my own two feet?
Will I dare to let go of fear and spread my wings? Maybe I'll catch the wind and nod a peace-filled exhale to the shorebird ...Thankful, Shalom.
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Ryan Bowser 