The hair on my arms flutters like feathers.
The wind, powerful and insistent, is all the encouragment I need.
"Did you give me wings?" My question is soft and breathless.
You were born with wings, darling, you whisper at the nape of my neck.
"I can jump?" The idea is invigorating.
I need the end. I crave a conclusion.
*No...You can fly.