Joint writing prompt

“Imagine you are a bird. What kind of bird are you? And what’s that like?”

Quillumination:

We all have our favorite branches. Mine was in a maple tree which grew in someone’s front yard, but the branch stretched over the sidewalk below, and I could overhear the conversations of the people walking by underneath.

I would normally be undetected, but every so often, somebody would spot me and say: “Oh look, a blue jay!” I would feel like I had been caught doing something wrong, even though they couldn’t know I had been eavesdropping.

A storm came last week and blew my favorite branch down. So now I am on a higher branch, where the light is better, but I can’t hear a word they’re saying anymore.

Lakefield:

It would depend on the day which bird I chose to be. I am a shaman and that’s what I do. It literally broadens my horizon and I get to experience the rush of exhilarating freedom when I let gravity take over for a while, then suddenly: up! Up! Up into the sun.

Today, hmmm. Today feels like a robin day, cocky little shits, I could use some of their attitude.

I’ll sit cross-legged for a minute, put my fingers and thumbs on my temples and focus — eyes closed — until in the darkness, a small spot of color appears. A little brightness in the dark.

I will follow that bright spot, because that is the bird opening its eyes with new awareness.

Today I am a robin.