text: Once upon a time, long, long ago and far, far away there was a little bird. And the little bird loved to fly high above the trees. All through the hot summer days, the bird soared and dipped and dived. She found such joy in the spread of her wings and the feel of the wind in her feathers. She would weave in and out of the full branches, feeling the brush of the leaves along her wings. Hearing the songs of her companions. Feeling so full of life and bustling with energy. And time passed. As the bird flew, the leaves changed their colors, and the skies clouded over. There was a briskness in the air that hadn't been there before. And still, the bird took to the skies every chance she could. She dipped among the many-colored leaves and gloried as they fluttered around her, falling to the ground. She smelled the distant scent of smoke and saw the fruits and vegetables ripen and be harvested. Soon, the trees had lost all their leaves leaving their branches bare. The sun hid behind the ever-present clouds and the sky was dark. The snow fell. Lightly at first, then with greater urgency. The snow piled around the base of the tress, muffling the sounds of the forest. Hiding the beauty under a blanket of white. The chill air hurt the bird as she flew through it. The deep breaths that had brought her the summer-fresh breezes and the crisp autumn winds took a cruel turn. The coldness if the wind bit into her skin as she continued her flight. Her heart became as heavy as the sky now. The efforts it took to flap her wings and lift herself into the sky made her very bones ache. But on she flew. With an ache in her bones and a chill through to her skin. On she flew. Until, one day, she just... couldn’t. The bird landed. So tired and so cold from the winter, from the abuse of the elements. She landed, shivering, on a bare branch, nestling in close to the trunk of the tree. And she rested. But soon, as she rested, she noticed, next to her in the branch, a tiny little bud. And as she rested, she noticed a slim shaft of light breaking through the clouds and warming her. And each day, as she rested, more buds blossomed around her, and the shaft of light grew brighter and stronger. The buds turned to fragrant blossoms and bright, fresh leaves. The forest, shaking off the chill of the winter, was starting to come alive around her. And as she rested, *she* grew stronger. And one day, when she had rested, she stretched out her wings again. And with a strong flap, she lifted back into the skies. Braver for the winter she had endured. Stronger for the time she had rested. And wiser for the time that had passed. But still, she took to the air, rising on the currents. And she dipped and she dived, and she flew, and her heart again soared.