From another summer. This small robin was finding its wings unwieldy, its elders less of a comfort than before the day first flight was required, and the world outside my window a great big, intimidating place. Sitting on the hammock took effort. Getting there to sit, even more. I watched for twenty minutes, praying that those wings would grant this baby access to the tree limbs above. And then, astonishingly, wings fired up by determination from within this little soul but way beyond this world, they did.
Everything that lives does so on a wing and a prayer between one breath and the next. That’s easy to forget, until one chances on a baby robin risking it all just to be.
