I'm back to writing a poem every day, whether they stink or not.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Feathers

The wind blew a feather against
the sidewalk at my feet.
It fluttered a bit on its shaft,
and until I looked straight on
I believed it was a bird
pecking the ground for seed.

Sometimes the thought of you
comes, and before I recognize it,
I feel a need to pray on my knees.

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