On the Roof

I am a bird on a roof. I have left the building. We are many of us birds. Many of us have left the building. Many of us do not fly. Many of us birds sit on the roof of a building. Maybe sometimes I wonder if my wings have been clipped. Maybe sometimes I know they've been. But then. It is possible sometimes to grow new wings.

I will not be on this roof forever. After I fly I will come back into the barn. I will fluff out my feathers and bury my head in my wing. After. For now. I like being a bird among many other birds on the roof of a building. We are a powerful sight to see. We are the birds between adventures. The adventure of inside, and the adventure of the sky.