and although it feels as if your limbs grow weak from the height,
your wings will prove you're strong.
against your beak, cold gases flow.
ruffling your wings, finding it's way through each feather.
cold gases fill your lungs.
you long to feed those smaller than you,
those which are housed at the nest
the one you so carefully created. each branch which you so cautiously crafted to be placed next to another.
you grow so easily tired.
fatigued from the plight.
weakened.
but your wings will prove you're strong.
fly baby, fly.
land, and love, feed and care, leave and soar.
