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.
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