On the long walk home I spot a bird. Her bright jewel colours and sharp song draw my vision. What a paradoxical existence! To be precious, yet too precious to hold in my hand. Too delicate to capture in a cage and admire endlessly.
Where do you go? A bird does not flutter aimlessly like a lost poet, or a homesick heart. Instead, you beat your wings with purpose, perhaps returning to the nest you built so diligently for your family in the spring.
Or perhaps you are a young one, just setting out from your home. Then, be wary, precious jewel, to not lose anything on the way, nor come crawling back to the nest. Your family loves you very much, but the nest is far too crowded now for you.