Feather lives on the street
It fell off the wing of a bird
Gets dusty but still it can float
Hard habit
To break – have you heard…
How feather
Once flocked with high rollers
Made merry with
Elbows you rub
Like a fortunate traffic controller
Enrolled in a mile high club
Surely you’ve seen it, this feather
Softly adrift in the wind
Needing to pull it together
Except it just can’t once again
So it floats on with only one purpose
Survival and yes it survives…
…But in the process of simply surviving
It floats on & touches our lives
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem