The Feather
A blue and grey feather
Floating down the stream
Lying on its back
Head towards the sky.
A boy, just a few yards beyond
Sits by the flowing current, slow
Letting out the tears
That persist
The inside broken.
Just then
What here comes?
A stroke of love,
Grace,
Beauty.
Come gently,
Strange wanderer.
How does it trouble your heart,
Let it be mended.
His mind then sees clearly,
Walking away,
Into the water he wades,
So gracefully,
To pick up the feather.