You navigate the storm
Your wings tilting, the landing may not be
Noteworthy except that you landed at all.
You weren’t pushed to the ground
Oh, no, not you.
The wind almost does your bidding
And the pelting sleet sings harmony with you.
Not a dry nest for you,
You choose the top of the branch
Where wind buffets.
You laugh, cawing into the rain
Why not choose the fur tree?
Sit near the trunk where it’s calmer
If not a bit warmer?
I check my window again.
You’ve been out there an hour.
You enjoy this? Don’t you?
You, in the middle of the maelstrom.
I want to be there, too
With wet feathers
My rudder churning as the blasts hit me,
But perched solidly where I’ve been placed