A Feather

Yesterday, today,
each time
I walked by
a tiny bit of down,
a feather nestled
in the gutter, in the litter,
the gray leaves, of last year
the direct, the dust
A pure clean white father
rabbit-fur soft,
against the granite curb
I bent down and lifted the down
held it cupped in my hand
the walk home
A gust of wind, a puff really
sent the sail pirouetting, dancing
on my oak desk, mesmerizing
over the surface, up over the files
free to twirls, to reel,
no strings attached

September 5, 2008
written at the Agape Café coffeehouse
Wesley United Methodist Church
(one of 24 written there that night)