Do birds enjoy the challenge of a stormy day?

Do birds enjoy the challenge of a stormy day?

These are the places my mind takes me.

Birds are specks in the sky above me, buffeted by the wind

Like feathered sky divers maintaining position

While gusts attempt to knock them off course.

But they could sit somewhere, couldn't they? These birds?

They don't have to fly into the face of nature at its most moody.

And as I watch them, wings outstretched, lurching and swooping,

Trying to combat a force unseen,

I remember a young girl and a coat and a windy day

And her letting that coat billow like a cape

And the wind taking it out so she looked like she could fly

And it playfully punched my cheeks with its air blast

And pushed me about, expelling my giggles with its rough play.

As I'm taken back to simple days of childhood freedom,

I wonder about the birds

And whether they like the blustery days of Autumn

That make things swirl and fall

And shake the stillness caused by Summer's dryness

And invigorate the drowsiness that's been left behind by the touch of the sun.

Maybe they were bored by the heat and this is why they move now.

The grey sky is a backdrop for a battle,

A wrestling between natural forces

But it's not to the death; it's just for fun.

It looks fun, to me, down here.

Because I know how it can make you laugh

And I envy the birds.

But the wind is too loud for me to hear their cackles.