it whelms up like a beast.
well known and familiar, but different at the same time.
it's stronger now, like it's been kept in its cage too long, and now it needs to stretch. 
but it needs more room because when it was squished down into the cage, it has been growing. 
a little taller, stronger, hungrier, with a drive that was deeper than ever before.
and it knows...
it knows that, if it really wants, it can. 
it can do what it wants.

wings spread, legs aching to move.
the air is too thick, suffocating on the very oxygen that your body needs, but it's not what it wants, craves.

rush, wild, change, unknown.
free, throwing off the shackles that hold it to the ground and soaring.
stretching out the cramped, experienced appendages that have knowledge written all over them.
each bump, line, scar and ridge speak a thousand words.
experience: taste, sound, touch, sight.

it's restless and wild and beautifully dangerous.
it's thrilling and lovely and has a seductive voice that always calls for more.
never enough. 
always growing on more, needing more, starving for more.

and when you've starved it too long, and the hunger is too much, and your arms grow tired from holding the cage shut, you give.
you relax your muscles, stretch your cramped, stretched white fingers and sigh.
and as the crack slowly opens, it stirs.
smelling what it craves and longing with all it's passport-stamped heart that it may fly free.

but for now, no.
nothing more than a crack.
so out slips a paw: tough for walking, stained red with dirt, wet with rain, and soft for walking with care for the places it steps.
and the tip of a barely fraying wing, not enough to be old, only just starting to really be comfortable + strong.
going where it needs without rubbing or getting too sore.

and  i snap.
frantic for the bag, keys, camera, anything.
book, pen, paper, grasping for something, just enough for now.

so i go.
dust behind me, sending minimal words forward when necessary, scribbling words, a plea of "get me out of here" on my lips.
dust behind me, road ahead.
nothing but: it, myself, the sky, dust + cows.

and as much as my heart aches, and it growls in impatience, sometime i must turn back.
brake, stop, reverse, eat my dust on the way back.
one gritty mouthful after the other like a child caught lying chokes down bubbles. 
tracing tracks back to the beginning, slowly easing the wing back in the cage. 

and it's just enough for now, just enough to ease the gnawing ache inside it.
so i stroke it's paw, wishing almost more than it's wild, racing heart that i could open the cage + let it shine in its full glory.
but not now. 
not yet.
there's a time when it will be only us.

it's wings free + ready and my word "go." and we're off.
back where it's comfortable, where it's free and wild and life is abundant.

but not yet.
not yet.