Standing among the teachers, I waited awkwardly in their observation. The air was thick and warm, my feet sinking into the dew laden grass below. Exposed, I waited, forced into patience for the final words to be spoken.
Approached, one knocked on my chest and called out, “It sounds hollow!” and returned to complete the circle.
They closed in, reducing my circumference. Handing me a stick, still covered in jagged bark and last seasons leaves, they moved me toward a great pine tree.
“Awaken and describe the bird that sleeps within.” whispered the wind into my ear. I moved toward it, encumbered by its size. Circling in a paced delineation, I decided to move underneath. Crawling on a bed of dried needles, my skin tearing at their prodding, I tapped the branches to cull the bird and get my assessment underway.
I heard its wings, flap in disturbance and apologized for my interference. I continued in my beat, hoping to at least catch a glimpse. Round and round I went, only agitating its slumber and making it wince. When finally a ruckus, an explosion came forth. Eye to eye with the white spread wings I asked it for any hints.
The stillness ended with a charge of her beak, bolting for my chest the bird was suddenly inside me. I returned to the circle in a hurried rush. “Its inside my chest!” I called out, unsure of my next step.
“Now learn what it looks like.” they replied, turned and left.
inspired by the prompt “it sounds hollow” at typetrigger.com