First Day of Flight

A crisp new sense of possibility floats on the air,
As the young birds in the nest try to prepare,
For what lies ahead the rest of the day,
Hoping the ideas of flight will stay.

Flapping their feather fur, as if they just hatched,
And still clutching their mothers, they groan twist and scratch.
Some are afraid of the choices they’ll make,
When away from the nest, exposed to the snake.

The very first moments are what keep them at bay,
Reconsidering following through with the day.
Most approach the edge with their wings still tucked in,
Sinking like lead, and feeling like tin.

But they ready their wings and aim to take flight,
Using what they’ve learned from sight.
Last points checked, wings at attention,
Now is the time for life’s great ascension.

But it doesn’t matter how that first flight goes,
When thinking back to the path each bird chose,
Each bird must choose flight, no other option rendered,
Giving hue to the light of your blank page, colored.