Resting My Wings

The crow had spent the day flying against the wind. Beneath him, the cliffs offered little shelter. Ahead, there was always another stretch of sky.

He kept going, even as his wings grew heavy. Somewhere along the journey, he had begun to believe that every moment of daylight had to be spent moving forward.

Then the sunset spread gold across the rocks, and he noticed a ledge.

He approached with his wings wide, letting the wind slow his arrival. For once, he was looking for somewhere to land.

The stone held his weight. The evening light warmed his feathers. Nothing asked him to explain how far he had traveled or why he could go no farther that day.

For a while, that was enough.

Many of us know what it feels like to carry on while quietly longing for a place to rest. We finish another task, answer another message, and tell ourselves we will take a breath when everything is done. Yet there always seems to be something left.

Resting My Wings invites us to make room for that breath now.

In the crow’s outstretched wings, we might recognize our own effort. In the golden sky, a moment of warmth. In the rocky ledge, the possibility of letting ourselves be supported.

Tonight, the crow can leave the horizon where it is. Tomorrow’s journey will still be there.

For now, there is a place to land.