Between wingtips



Free-fall tumbling

howling reaching grasping.

Finally exhausted;


between wingtips.


How were we to know?





3 thoughts on “Between wingtips

    • Oh… no need! The weakness of my parred down words I’m afraid, to express what I was thinking. The desperation, but also the realization. How we tumble through time and space, reaching and grasping until finally, exhausted … we realize that all along the fall was just part of our flight. That we exist between wingtips and that flight is always there, part of our nature. The osprey in the photo, folded and suspended, in the next moment opened her wings and fell into a beautiful dive, followed by a soar upwards.

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