III- Flight

I cling to mountain rock

weary from fruitless migration.

Wind tussles my feathers,

bids me unwelcome.

Ancient oak whispers of wisdom,

promises peace.

Coquettish waves push and pull,

winking an invitation.

I release my talons

and dive into the open air.

I seek guidance in the valley;

there are answers in

the world between.

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