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Watching Them Fly
They took from the nest before I said “Go.” I don’t know what to do from here. A mix of awe and awful fear to see what they do when they’re not near. He’s nervous about his wings, I can tell by the way he avoids getting too high. He tries and tests them again and again, against the wind and with it too. I whistle a tune to remind him I see, but he’s asking me to trust in his calling. The other one, she’s soaring and turning like she has nine lives; the way she dives makes me hold my breath. I want her to rest here for a while. Knowingly she smiles as she sweeps by, then up, up, up. And the little one, he’s not beating his wings like I taught him too. Trying to think what I can do to fix his reckless antics. I panic until I see him pull out of a death-defying nose dive; and the way he flies is a nod to what he’s known all along. All I can do is sing a song at a distance, from a place we’ve called home.