Wednesday, November 18, 2009


Everything is light when this feather sits besides me.
Everything goes awry when it flies away

and says each time, "You never once made me sway."

Should I have? Should the wind have?
Did I not? Did the wind not?

It is a stray feather, alright,
with no place to stay.

I put it at someplace
secure and safe.

it departs so often that,
the air smells its flight
more often than my hand-held
gentle admiration of its lightness.

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