When I was an undergraduate at Penn State, I went through a brief Baudelaire phrase. While not a redhead by any means, there was a reddish part of my beard and an auburn tinge to my long hair. I drank lots of coffee and smoked my pipe until I had trouble going up hills. (I had read that he drank coffee often and smoked tobacco to increase his creativity.
Fortunately for my much-older self, I have paid more attention to my health. But the poem referred to in the title has inspired me. At times we all feel trapped in something: a relationship, a job, in something. Our wings are not made for walking; the speaker in the poem means that we are trying to do something we are not made to do, and that is the root of our predicament.
Whatever it is that you want to do, why not break away, spread your wings, and head for the sky?
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