Wanting to Be a Bird

When I was a kid, I pretended I was a bird, and I did it in front of anyone in early elementary school, winging around with my arms outstretched. Around fourth grade I started learning modesty and only soared when no one was watching. The ground, I imagined, was far away, ants the size of people, and above it I made languid turns, sensing the change of air on my outspread fingers. On the younger side, before the modestly, I would flap and land on rocks or at the bottom of a tree, and I remember.