Bowl of quail eggs with blossom branch

A reflective poem, with metaphors and feathers.

Bowl of quail eggs with blossom branch

When I was a child I found a feather.
I picked it up and tossed it into the wind,
Following wide-eyed, wherever it took me.

When I was a girl of 16 I found a feather.
I picked it up, marveling its beauty,
And wove it into my hair.

When I was a mother my child found a feather.
She picked it up, I wanted her to put it down,
Instead, I taught her to fly.

When my nest was empty I found a feather.
I picked it up and tossed it into the wind,
And watched it fall peacefully to the ground.

When I was an old woman I found a feather.
I picked it up and tossed it into the wind,
With it, I flew with the angels back to God.

— Lahle Wolfe

 

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