The Promise of Flight
The branch,
steady and scarred,
holds their stories in silence.
Two kestrels meet there—
one, fragile and new,
its feathers soft whispers of innocence,
the other, bold and weathered,
wearing rust and brown like a song of survival.
Their eyes share the horizon,
sharp, knowing, unspoken.
The fledgling clings, trembling,
a heartbeat away from falling
or flying.
It watches,
mirrors the elder’s stillness,
its soul stretching toward the sky—
a promise of freedom,
untamed, infinite, waiting.

© Nelly Vee