A Feather On The Wind Poem by cheryl davis miller

Just like a feather on the wind;
falling so softly to the ground.
With no control; at natures whim
a falling feather makes no sound.

There is no one to hear my cry,
if I should ever offer one.
To the wind's will, I must comply,
until this free-fall journey's done.

Just like a feather on the wind;
my form is drifting high and low.
And yet I know this too shall end,
when this harsh wind does cease to blow.

c.d.m.11/9/13