I walked by a seemingly white feather

This morning….

It was very small and had a fringe of downy afterfeather near its shaft,

And was just off the curb

Right by my feet.

I almost missed it.

It sat there quivering

Almost without detection

From the chilled morning breeze

Of summer’s end.

It looked so pristine and white

Against the drab oil-blemished greyscale pavement.

It made me feel lighter…

For a fleeting moment.

But then its surprising heaviness took hold of my attention.

Upon closer inspection

I saw that the feather wasn’t white after all;

The cement that held it to the ground with its force of non-negotiable gravity,

And the gravitas of its observer (myself),

Gave me the illusion of a white and light

That simply

Wasn’t.

The feather had dirt curling up and over the sides of its vane,

And when I bent down to bring myself ever closer

To the lost feather of angels or birds,

Or some cheap boa (for all I knew),

I could tell that each and every barb,

Along with its spine,

Was crooked and broken.

I know now

That every time hereafter in which I spy a lonely feather on the ground,

Separated from the body that once warmed it,

I will feel heavy

Rather than light…

Like I used to.

~~~

❤👽xoxoxo👽❤

~~~

***And all I saw was a feather….***