A bird flies from the ground to a small branch, and lands.
The branch wobbles. Whoa, thinks the bird, maybe I made a mistake.
Then he finds his balance. The bird looks around, content.
He begins to sing.
The twig shakes again. So he stops.
The bird sees something in the grass, and dives down.
The grass is as tall as trees. He can't see past it.
But he can eat.
Everything, the flying, the eating, even the balancing, seems like hard work.
Only in brief moments is he perfectly balanced.
We may not always be balanced.
But we are always who we are - a person, or a bird.
Star Saint Claire, May, 2011, San Diego