a dropped feather to freedom
A tiny blue soft off gray feather
sat alone on the ground
its sheen feathery fresh
uncomplicated by the dirt, and the dust.
She had flown off and away, far
off into the high branches of the dark forest
where sunlight gathered gently
touching softly the branches of leaves
and filtering down in shafts of
magical dusty sunlight
where other birds sang, and created a
symphony, welcoming her into their enchantment.
She had flown fast and furiously
when she felt a gentle tug on
one of her lovely graceful sapphire
she felt betrayed.
Earlier on, she had sung a
trill of high staccato rifts,
with long endless notes
bursting from her feathered little
puffs in her throat, warbling
in otherworldly drifts of
Magical floods of feelings sending
chills all over my skin.
The canvas with the cage with
the vanishing bars and the door
closed by a brush,
worried her innocence.
In the air tiny red flags waved
their warnings.crickets, beetlebugs, dragonflies too.
She could hear the chatter of the forest birds, crying to her high
up in the darkness where sunlight graced the branches in a subtle
The light seemed to dapple the colors of
viridian and perelene with a soft yellow, maybe indian yellow,
softer, rougher that lemons.
As she flew high away from the mysterious canvas with the curious bars,
and the door of trapped consequences,
she tucked her tiny feet up high together
against her soft tiny belly of her feathery softness,
not thinking for a second,
just darting away
following the trills of the voices
whose song pulled her high,
safely into their rites of passage
where earlier, she had not been ready.
That tiny tug of awakening,
her feather interrupted,
sent her to brave new heights,
never dreamed about before.
She felt the painter hiding behind the tree,
she knew, she smelled other flowers
©Heidi McGurrin 7/21/2017