If I Could Only Fly

I have never known the feeling of soaring through the skies like the other pigeons. Though white and delicate, my wings have always refused to lift me. While the others glide gracefully above, I stay grounded, watching from below. At first, I longed to join them, feeling trapped by my inability. But then, I began to notice things they seemed to miss. The way the sunlight filters through the leaves, casting soft patterns on the earth, or how the flowers bloom in quiet corners, unnoticed by those rushing past. Every day, the world offered me small, beautiful gifts, and I learned to treasure them.
Though I can’t fly, I see the world in ways others don’t. I watch the wind stir the grass, hear the hum of life in the soil, and smell the sweetness of rain long before it falls. It’s as if the earth speaks to me, sharing its secrets. The sky may never be mine, but I have found beauty here, rooted in the moments others overlook. And perhaps, in that stillness, I have discovered a kind of freedom they will never know.– RDA