Poem #26

for those in need of a ‘little something’ to cheer up

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An all-white feather drops
from the sky—a curious sight
for it holds quite a posture while
it spins on its axis with the quill
pointing down in the most perfect
angle as if on a mission to write
in mid-air a fast paced villanelle.

Swirl after swirl the feathery
funnel falls six storeys down
in a widening spiral till the earth
spreads her welcoming carpet
and the impact is soft as the turf
where it finally rests, and I rush
down the stairs—what a lark!
	

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