April Featherstone Poems

Pale blues and whites, puff and fluff spinning turning, my world is churning round round round. Falling faster, whistling, on my slender body, down down down. The sun burns through my feathery shimmer, burning burning burning. My wings are limp I cannot raise, my efforts are in vain. I see the trees forming below, blurry breeze blurry breeze. I swiftly fall I cannot stop the hot pain sears through me hot hot hot: wait, the sun is far above, too far too far to cause my pain, free falling out of control, down down down, the ground looms near I try to halt, try to spread my wings, oh my wings; oh my wings won't budge; the ground rises up so fast, so fast, I thump down jolted, on the earth! My blinking eyes, blink, blink, blink, as life drains from me slowly. blood spills from my beak, my beak while the sun beams down on my feathery down i die I die so meek.
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A small patch of joy, an infrequent guest, feeling a spark of hope.
I crawl toward the beckoning mirage, I almost reach it too; Alas, it melts away and is replaced with the clawing fingers that drag me down beneath, the dark place, the dark place.
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