White Feather

A black bird pecking on the ground Seemed happy with what he had found, Perhaps to decorate, I guessed, A new or an existing nest. His prize? A feather, snowy white, Most likely loosened while in flight From possibly a seagull’s wing Or pigeon’s, which the wind did bring. He grabbed his treasure in his beak And flew away; I’d love to peek At where, among each twig and scrap He placed that feather in his cap.