Into the Blue

My first instinct
Is to fly
But my wings
Have grown stiff
And unpracticed.
I hesitate
Having let my guard down
In the protected circle
Of woven twigs and fiber
Bound together
By two
And unexpectedly
Coming unraveled
In the coarse wind.
At first
I cannot fly
I huddle
In the decomposing arc
Protecting the soft
Underbelly of my feelings
Ruffling my feathers
To appear
More fearsome
And not fearful.
I imagine
I am strong
And simply wait
Flexing and preening
Folding and unfolding
To rush
To the edge
And push away
Gaining altitude
Soaring
Leaving
The ruined nest behind.