Bird I stare at the small chickadee perched on a small branch of a pine tree. So soft and small, with beady black eyes and a tiny little beak. I blink, and he's gone. I find myself envious of the little creature. Off he goes again, into the air, to the next tree.. He doesn't realize that the world is his. Forever I've longed to see it all, the world. To see overtop the evergreens and blue waters, instead of going through them. I wish to feel the wind through my hair, and the freedom of the sky. How beautiful it must be to be a bird.