While the yellow-jackets mingle with the Azaleas and the sunflowers and the people with only each other, You were there in the sky on a young branch navigating the heights of which far too few have seen, crawling toward the sun. You weaved through the leaves and fought against the voice of Mother, and finally, finally, you reached the peak. Then, just like the robins, just like the timid sparrows singing without the need for recognition, you opened the crimson shell housing your weightless wings and flew to the only place you knew was home.