I enjoy womanhood in seasons, like a migrating bird.
I think being a bird must be a bit like wearing a sundress in springtime. Maybe it’s a trick of the season, of sunlight, for them as well as for us, but when the light touches you and your plumage blooms for every little turn, twitch, or movement, it’s hard not to feel beautiful, natural, a twittering Snow White to the park squirrels.
It is dangerous to be a bird, even if they can usually fly. There are traps, and snares, and bird dogs, and mock calls, and snakes, and even bigger birds who can be just as dangerous as a hunter with a gun. It’s dangerous to be a bird for too long, especially when you can’t migrate, because the nature reserves are being sold off for real estate, at an alarming pace.
I enjoy womanhood in seasons.