Light as the air that it travels on,
Beautiful in the detail that constitutes it,
It flits by the little girl as she reaches out to grab it.
On her palm it rests, barely
With fascination she raises it to her eye,
and with awe and childish breathlessness,
She sees a reflection of the sky
Enamoured by its beauty,
Its weightless sublime magic,
She stares and smiles and absorbs
And then there came a gust of wind,
Or maybe it was her breath,
And carried with it the little feather
In circles and spirals of dance
A smile, a sigh of happiness, maybe just a little regret,
But joy, oh yes, so much joy, for the image that will remain forever.
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