Feather

Sitting here in the wood;

I see a little ruffled, angry bird

And she doesn’t mean that other bird any good.

The air is heavy with threats and breath of life

And I’m here, I’m here with you.

Feather, feather, I’m down like you.

 

A cup-shaped nest, hidden well,

Lined with feathers from her own breast

And she’d die to protect them, I can tell.

The flowers close. They breathe in and hold till dawn

And I’m here, I’m here with you.

Feather, feather I’m down like you.

 

Soft they float down, shed in pain.

The peacock postures, flaunting his,

But each one gets washed away by rain.

A feather- light caress breathes upon my memory

And I’m here, I’m here with you.

Feather, feather I’m down like you.

 

Yet there is hope for beast and man.

We soar into the mystical states:

Our feathers bear us up, for what else can?

And in my mind I rest on feathers, breathing calm,

And I’m here, I’m here with you.

Feather, feather I’m warm like you.

 

 

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