Again. And again. And again.

The small lompura fell.

“All the others caught on so quickly,” he thought.

But the others were bigger

with larger, less battered wings.

He sat in the wet grass

Defeated,

Aching and sore.

Tears swelled in his eyes.

He did not want to cry-

not while he knew mother watched from the nest above.

But the rest of her young had flown off

Taking flight with ease.

He shed a single tear,

and the rest burst from his soul, needing

To be released from their windows.

He cried

because he knew he would try again

and would fail again.

Mother called:

“Again.”