Bird on Cardstock Under a Plastic Sleeve

He is a watercolor bird, painted on cardstock and temporarily protected by a plastic sleeve. Though a small bird, I think he is an enlargement of a corner in a much larger painting. He is nested in the journal of other artistic endeavors, waiting for his opportunity to soar the skies of dreams.

His blue wings are pulled close to his sides, sitting and waiting for either flight or rest. I don’t think he has decided which yet, but is prepared for both. His face is turned, facing the other pictures on the page, staring in the darkness at lotus flowers, brilliant in color, and wolves howling in the moon’s light. He is not alone in this journal, as all of the photos are waiting, waiting, for something more to come. They wait for someone to open the pages and release them from their flimsy prison, out into the wide world of creative expression.

The tiny bird dreams of the day when he is free to escape his plastic sleeve. He longs to spread those soft downy blue wings, feeling each feather rustling in the wind, the sun warming his face. He wants to fly free, and experience the infinite heights in which those wings can carry him. He wants to look upon the world and all the other birds, and yell “Come with me! It’s beautiful here!” encouraging them to fly with him.

He dreams at drinking cool water from ponds and streams, and finding nourishment from the fields of flowers. He may stop at a feeder to two to take advantage of kind souls that welcome feathered friends. The other birds that stop there will welcome him to join their flock, banding together in their fight for survival--there is safety in numbers they say. They hope for a small puddle in which to hop about, flapping their wings, tossing droplets of water on their backs to wash away the day’s grime. It is a joyful experience, but also necessary to keep the oil of their wings clean and primed for soaring.

As much as he longs for the spring and summer, he also dreads the winter and the cold that comes with it, the deep snow when food is scarce, and hawks that prey upon he and his friends. Cover is limited in winter, and the only hope is to find an evergreen, full and thick, to protect him from freezing winds. It is the winter that he is most vulnerable, you see, and he may find himself wanting to give up. His only comforting thought is the memory of the warm sun, and it will keep him alive in the most bitter of winters. And spring will come again he knows.

I stare at the little bird on cardstock in the plastic sleeve, and know that we share the same dreams. I smile at him and silently wish him luck. He is a beautiful bird, full of life and hope. I hope he finds his warm sunshine, his wings, and his ability to soar.