By Ashley O’Hare
I spent the morning picking flowers
and thinking about last Spring;
when we saw a baby bird in the park
and discussed what it would be like to fly—
to feel the open air around your wings.
You thought it would be terrifying—
caught up in the fear of the fall.
To not have solid ground beneath your feet
was entirely foreign to you.
My mind had turned a different direction.
How liberating it must be
to defy gravity’s force dragging you down
and see the world from higher ground.
But we pushed the conversation aside
because it was too immature and childlike.
You could still enjoy the stable ground
while I kept my head soaring in the clouds.