Born To Fly

I was walking on a footpath next to a busy road when I saw her. On a bed of yellow dried leaves, she lay motionless.

Her black velvety skin, and bright blue spots were in sharp contrast to her surroundings. I went close to her. I expected her to spread her wings and fly. But she didn’t. I gently nudged her with my toe. There was no response. I bent down to get a closer look. Slowly, and carefully, I picked her up, and held her in my palms.

She was beautiful.

Her wings were closed. Her feelers stiff. It was clear that her soul had left her body. But was she really lifeless?

I took a step forward, and she moved.

I stopped. And her movements stopped as well.

Perhaps the wind was as fascinated by her, as I was. But something about the way she moved made me wonder. Was it the wind trying to take her away, or was she trying fly? For the next three hours, I held on to her. She tried her best to escape. And I did my best to restrict her movements. Twice she slipped from my cupped hands, and even broke her feelers. But I was determined to keep her.

I brought her home with me. I placed her on top of a cupboard and went to have some tea. When I returned, she was gone. I tried searching for her. But my efforts were in vain.

I was mistaken about her. True, her body had lost its ability to fly. But that didn’t stop her from flying.