Freedom

Whenever a bird flies overhead, I think of what it must be like to be so free. Free to move through the air, above all the people and animals below. Free to move from one place to another, with seemingly little effort. Free to look for food wherever it may be found. Free to shelter in the trees. But then I realize that I am free as well. Free to attract the birds with birdseed, so that I may watch their lovely forms flying to the feeder. Free to look at all the trees, with their beautiful leaves moving in the wind as if they were underwater, moving with the currents. Free to kick up those same leaves after they have fallen to the ground, in preparation for the snows of winter. And I realize I don’t really want to be a bird. I want to be me.

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