It’s the quietest thing
fuzzy owlet
its first leap
of faith from the nest
our breath suspended
afraid to disturb the air
send those untried wings
off course.

The fall, the swoop, the soar
the scurry back along the branch
chest just a little
pecks at a sibling
to try—bold, now.
I did it, so can you.
It’s fun.

The quietest things.
Moments mostly unobserved
we raise our eyes, surprised
to find we had an audience
about what we’ve done
simply taken the next step
and the next
what anyone else would have done
has done
does every day, probably:
the fall, the swoop, the soar,
the scurry to nudge
another one to try.

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