Poetry

Soft in my rough hands.
Cool soothing, smoothness
over mad, crazy rage.
Vibrant colors swirling and blending.
Mixing into one solid shape and color.
Feathers surround everything and
fill all that we can be and are.
They describe a mother’s touch
and a lover’s embrace.
They are the angels in the sky,
guarding us in our daily lives.
They are stuck to the birds of our worlds,
helping them to fly and survive.
These feathers we see are only the beginning,
for there are far more beyond the capabilities of our eyes.
They float in rainbows and clouds.
They write our histories stories,
and paint our biggest masterpieces.
They sketch, they draw,
they shape, they write.
Feathers are everywhere that we are,
and everywhere that we aren’t.
Life is full of many feathers.