(for Rosie)

Would mean that you, hatchling,
would have pecked your way our
of your shell and emerged,

wet and wondering, into a warming
world, into a flush of green fluttering
its leafy fingers, shielding you

as you grow. It would mean that
you know this thing humans call
spring from your perch

on high, with parents bringing
wiggly worms and bugs to feed you,
keep you safe in the nest

they constructed just for you
until it is time to leave,
to use those wings

with which you were born,
the ones you’re barely aware of,
the ones you will stretch

and flutter like the leaves,
practicing, until the moment
you find yourself plunging

into nothingness called air,
until lift finds you, you being
of flight, of glide, of landing

and taking off again, you, baby bird,
which is what it is to be born
into spring with wings.

•••

With thanks to Ellen Rowland for the prompt and the link
to this incredible dance by the I Am Force dance troupe
(choreography by director Chehon Wespi-Tschopp)
to this Max Richter’s interpretation of Vivaldi:
“Four Seasons Reimagined: Spring.”