The feather falls fleetingly to the floor.
Hopefully Heather holds her husband’s hand.
She sees the small soft streak it struck in the sand
Covering the carpet in the couple’s cabin,
And realizes she really should ring out the rug
Before the bugs begin to burrow beneath the bed.
Instead opening the oval window she outwardly opines
To take the token back to Toronto but her husband says no.
So Heather holds the fallen feather in her other hand and carefully coaxes it out the open window
Into a world ready to receive it.
~ c.p.grisold
© 2013