Feathers from My Nest

“They lifted up effortlessly into the sky and headed toward a masterfully painted horizon. Mr. Sparrow glanced back one last time. ‘A fine nest it was.’ Mrs. Sparrow was finally content to look ahead, her tears drying in the autumn breeze. There would be more tears. But there would also be more breezes to dry them. She looked to her right contentedly, thankful for her partner in this terrestrial flight. She then tilted her wings upward to gaze toward her Maker, resting assured of her flight’s destination. No need to look back. After all, she left nothing behind. For she had gathered feathers from her nest.”