A gift this day,
Feather in my hand so light,
Another beauty of nature's sight.
Free at last,
From some branch or tree,
I held it in my hand so slight,
And let the sun,
Play with its light,
A tuft of moss,
Its passenger too,
Doubling the joy this day,
On wing and feather,
From where did it come?
A phoenix of beauty and sighs?
A nested bird,
In flight per say,
never the less,
A gift this day,
Feather in my hand so light,
Another beauty of nature's sight.
Drifting,
Floating,
Coming,
To me,
O, that we could be so free,
Like the feather,
That fluttered from the tree.
________________________________________
Poetry by W. Burkholder
Read 461 times
Written on 2007-03-02 at 19:10
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Feather in my hand so light,
Another beauty of nature's sight.
The Days Gift
A feather fluttered down to me,Free at last,
From some branch or tree,
I held it in my hand so slight,
And let the sun,
Play with its light,
A tuft of moss,
Its passenger too,
Doubling the joy this day,
On wing and feather,
From where did it come?
A phoenix of beauty and sighs?
A nested bird,
In flight per say,
never the less,
A gift this day,
Feather in my hand so light,
Another beauty of nature's sight.
Drifting,
Floating,
Coming,
To me,
O, that we could be so free,
Like the feather,
That fluttered from the tree.
________________________________________
Poetry by W. Burkholder
Read 461 times
Written on 2007-03-02 at 19:10
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