First Flight

Assuming hand from above guiding fretful pinioned glove past waltzing pines and drunken oaks, cheerful friends yet frightened folk. Swelling fear puffs spotted breast, no watchful eye, no woven nest. Sharply shoved by hurried gust and mistral maidens in a huff, who twirl up toward yellow glare to greet abashed doldrum air. Green eye below, delusions home, blue eye above, illusions roam which flit and fly it seems with ease Yet Freedom answers to the breeze.