A bird with outstretched wings lands on its resting place.
Shortly After Dawn
Woodland
One Wingbeat
Instinct
Grace and Beauty
. . .
There is no thought but flight.
The cool rush of air against my wings, feathered tips tilt with force unknown. As eyes reach towards the moment of my joining you, my friends, my bark bound limbs of silver birch, blackthorn, cherry, and oak.