Falcon Feather
In the dry places
I wandered,
always seeking,
A soul thirsting for
the coolness of peace,
but never really finding
a lasting place
to call my own.
But upon one such journey,
behold I found a feather
nestled on the ground
amongst the oak leaves
and acorns.
A falcon feather,
beautiful by any standard
and created for high places.
And I picked it up.
I found myself dreaming of those places,
soaring magnificent, free from
gravity, free from bondage.
And there I found myself,
just beyond the next cloud.
Copyright © Steve Johnson | Year Posted 2018
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