Pic: The Feather

She left me a feather
to remember her by,
she said she was an eagle
and eagles fly high,

i have seen her perched
on the highest branch,
i have seen her ferry twigs
to build her nest,

i have seen that branch break
and without warning fall,
some evening storms
come just like that,

i have seen her cry
for an abode thus lost,
i have seen her return
to what remains left,

as if refusing to leave
till the tree restores,
its own broken branch
and her erstwhile abode,

she visits me for a break
once in a while,
when her prey has had
a really good day,

i lay out the bread
and she enjoys a quiet bite,
nothing said
beyond a mutual respect,

homes take time
to rebuild from scratch,
and in our silence we both know 
this could take a while,

who knows how long
this sweet affair lasts,
but she did leave me a feather
to remember her by.

© vidursahdev 2020

Twig by twig…
Building a home.
Drying herself after the storm.
The broken branch.
After the storm.
Breaking bread.

15 thoughts on “The Feather (A True Story)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s