The one who grew me

The one who grew me was frail.

Such a creature covered in feathers at full bloom.

A

long slender neck and at the top of its head lay wide almond shaped eyes that seemed to be staring even when asleep.

I knew nothing of the world when I was born into it, things that other babies knew instinctively, I seemed to miss.

Maybe the feathered one that raised me did not have an appetite for motherly care, or at least it was different from most.

It would be distant at times, retracting from me as though if I had not pleased it.

Other times it was overbearingly attentive, I could not simply reach to fiddle with the grass beneath my feet. It's reaching fingertips swiftly yanking my body upwards and carrying me somewhere 'safe'.

I grew up to learn creatures are fickle and reading them, pleasing them was an impossible task.