Unlike The Flock

She was alone. Sure in confidence, and purpose. If only to be, live, fly, sing and express life as she knew it. Feathers of freedom. Many flocks came and went, competing for her attention. Intercepting her solo, blue sky Tangos, or at best trying. If not by charm, then by mere numbers.

But each flock, though different from the next. Had a distinct expression, that was seen in all the others. They rested the same, sang the same. Their feathers even had similar swings and slaps when flying. They were nothing like our soloist, caressing the creamy skies all by herself.

One night, when the rest of the world was sleeping, all but two birds stood awake. One of the two birds, who was a part of the flock of dozens, surprised our soloist. And found her, perched on a branch, beneath the moons glow. This curious bird, asked of her "why won't you join us, we'll keep you company, help with food, and warmth in winter?"

Our little soloist, under the glow of a moon, rounded, full, and smiling, says "More than security, safety, and numbers, I'd rather these feathers of mine be free to fly as high and as natural as they were created and meant to be."