Weightlessly, it wafted towards the earth,
No rush or brush of time compelled its fall
within my field of vision, yet spread mirth
and wonder on the meaning of it all.

Mere moments just preceding, it’d soared tall,
A single quill, amid a thousand more,
A finely, feathered aviator’s shawl,
A miracle of flight seen oft before.

Exquisite  tones from nature’s complex score,
Conquering gravity to keep aloft
a bird of beauty, lifting it to soar
above the trees and yet to settle soft.

It settles softly on my garden swing,
A feather from a dove or angel’s wing?

Photo Friday: #small

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