Feather

feather

I sat in the glider outside this morning
To begin my meditation
Birds’ songs and squawks filled the air

A single feather rocked back and forth
As it journeyed from a tall tree
To land on the glider beside me 

It was not symmetrical
Yet was still in good shape
Blue and white tipped in brown

A squawk came from a tree to my left
The origin of this lone feather?
Was this bird keening her loss?

Or was it a gift to remind me
To notice life in my yard?
Or just a chance act of nature?

NaPoWriMo2019Day Two: Write a poem that resists closure.

Photo by Fernando Lavin courtesy of Unsplash

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