Every morning I ride across the Gold Coast bridges and end up laughing at the same ridiculous miracle… enormous birds landing on thin tree branches. Pelicans, cormorants, herons, all bulk and grace, touching down like drunk acrobats, wobbling, correcting, pretending it was intentional all along. To me, it’s like slapstick meets poetry.

There’s something about watching a bird the size of a toddler balance on a twig that makes you question everything you thought you knew about physics, faith, and being human. Because they don’t hesitate. They just land. No calculations, no backup plan. Total commitment to the branch.

I have laughter and awe, about trust, balance, and how sometimes the universe gives me a chubby bird with serious faith in landings.

What are you trusting to hold your weight, even when it sways?

Ever landed somewhere fragile and found it held you anyway?

Thanks for drifting with me, Lyss x

(ps Welcome to a new season! Queenie is ok, in palliative care still, and I choose to start a new season of stories, called Hands in motion)

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