The Fall Elevates the Flight

It all came down and we couldn’t notice the brown leaf, as our notice to leave. I then understood why landing could be the hardest part of an airplane’s journey, the wheels screeching on the surface like the dew I shook off my feathers that morning…

There is a sudden pause when everything around you changes, it’s as if Autumn allows for a brief moment of disbeleaf… as it flips our green pastures upside-brown. Preparing for the journey to the next tropic, leaving everything behind isn’t easy. The hard searches we’ve made gathering the small branches, the soft bed that was made so I could stare at my own, like mother feeding our chicks. Winter hasn’t settled in yet, yet it makes Autumn seem like the grumpy landlord that demands us to be out soon. The people here would probably miss us, of how we welcomed them into the new day with angelic sounds and sometimes we’d hear them come to our tree and scold at us from down there. I would surely miss the times; the senior couples would sit on the benches in the park and scatter the seeds like confetti to us.

People might see us as those who are picky or choosy, one that would only search for the sunshine and moonlight, rather than the rain and cloudy nights and I say the way we were formed...created...is a grammar that gets lost in other’s translation. Time to get in formation, deciding who would lead the group, flying the v-line across the skies. The clouds filled the open spaces that seemed to have slipped a glimmer of hope through, ending any delays that could have allowed the sun rays to raise joy. It’s in a heartbeat that we leave, yet the same pattern of when we fly. Ascending into the skies, working our wings up and then pausing to fall, just to rise again. Yet, they would want to scan my skills of flight and I’d ask the question,

“Do you monitor the scanner of your heart as to living with a solid line or the ups and downs displayed?”

When we leave there are no lines in our lanes, no stops at our streets, yet we often find ourselves at a crossroad leading to our destiny. Accepting the road even if it requires a you-turn. The past wants to hold us back expecting us to return, and it makes us to believe that we are travelling with no destination, yet I stress there is none that knows a journey better than our Swallows and Arctic Turns. They often say that birds of a feather flock together, what is good for the geese is good for the gander, and it makes me believe that we are arts in a museum that tourists do not understand. There are no words that could articulate how we would feel about going on, yet hummingbirds would carry on even without your comprehension. In the preparation it would always be hard and feel heavy to carry on and we therefore rely on Crane to encourage the colony to pick themselves up and move on.

The journeys aren’t always easy and straight, there are dangers and obstacles that comes our ways and we’d have to be vigilant and see if there aren’t any prey that would Stork us. Ascending at altitudes that afforded the opportunity us to see the from up here, and taking a break to swoop down we’d notice things are a bit bigger down there and the skies allowed us to see things from up here. Realizing that Autumn, ought to teach us to appreciate what we have in a moment and in a span of time…maybe this time around it taught me to be less selfish, causing me to pause and look at the bare branches and barks of the trees, not even given the opportunity to find anything better, the leaves fallings to the ground, because…quickly…we leaf. If I could not believe that new leaves were to blossom the next spring time around, how could I believe that we would blossom in a new continent, in that place that may seem foreign and I’m reminded they say nothing ever came from a comfort zone, therefore suspend me between the time zones, make me become the master of time and may we escalate higher than drones and if we were kings and queens I’d say the skies are the thrones.

The constant crossing across multiple seas, I’ve seen, seeds scattered across the fields. Upon the acres of land, I could see the preparation for the new season settling in and for a moment I did not feel alone, yet the only difference between us is that they were waiting for the rain to shower them while I was already drying myself. I’d try and fill the beaks of the family, I’d try to lift their spirits higher than peaks of mountains and direct them in the way that they should go. The fall reminds me of the what I left to dried up within those around me, have I projected that of fear, rather than the consistent force of courage displayed by water. Now each day I live to nurture the seeds around me and even if it means I will not be there to see the day of blossoming, I would go through dirt for you to see your beauty at the end of each day, whether sunny or rainy, seasons that may change and when we fall we’d always fly back up.

This season got me reevaluating my sky-visa with the customs of Autumn and realized that it came as a mediator for my flight. See no tickets could have been prepared for our take off, no lines could be filled and departure was always on the itinerary even if the return card could not be guaranteed. We identify our sudden change not as a fall that holds down, but the augmentation of elevation is what would always prevail.

Oh, mediator of winter, I guess each time you fall, we rise…