“Notice the Great Mother does not flap her wings in futility as we do. She flies forward in grace, a motionless being of the sky. Be like her. Calm your minds. Calm your flapping.“
Trillian’s words echoed through the feathered community of nervous disciples.
“Remember friends, keep up and you shall be saved. Fly too close and you shall perish.”
The Great Mother rose above the tarmac, higher and higher, like a frozen metal bird.
“The dawn of a new evolution is upon us. Take flight! We shall be reborn.”
A thousand dark shapes reseeded the sky.
Prompt from Friday Fictioneers. Photo copyright-Rich Vozan.