Starling

Sky, clouds, treetops and rooftops. Starling stretched her short arms up as far as she could and wriggled her fingers in the air. Perched high on her father’s shoulders Starling swayed back and forth with the plod of his giant footsteps; her ankles locked in his strong grip, her wavy blond hair blowing like feathers in the wind. Above, a lone swallow circled, hung in the air for a moment, then sped off like a white-tipped star between a row of houses to their left. ‘Ooow,’ Starling said and began to flap her arms at her side, twisting and turning her waist as she did so, altering the angle of her flight. Below her, the speed of her father’s footsteps picked up, his stride lengthening until Sky was soaring through the air, bouncing higher with each footstep. ‘Weeeeeeeeeeeee,’ she said and began to giggle as the cool wind rushed past her smiling face.

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Tim Waltho

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