Freedom, of a sort

I have tasted freedom of late. No grave, no walls, no bedding, no practices, no rites, no teaching other than what one shows any son, and even a Lyria to feed and bathe Aden so I do not have to walk on floors and yet he does not run so wild as his mother. But I do.

I laugh and the trees like it. But the birds flutter. And occasionally, a whistle. If it were a signal to come, I would howl instead. But it is a wistful one. Ah well you should have had me at the chance.

Of course any cage would be worse after such tastes of leisure.



About Jenn

Find me on Twitter @JennGruden
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