Maybe there are no words for this.
Maybe just paintbrush strokes
and confetti wilderness.
I am the inheritor of you.
The breast wider than an athletic build.
Wings out and tips curling around.
The faintest of circles from a bird sensing a curve.
And I am in progress.
![](https://philipryderdunn.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/IMG_0234-1024x1024.jpg)