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Glass Feathers A Poem

I found a feather as I walked.
So white and clear and pale and cold,
Against the gentle spring green stalks,
Iced beauty in its nest of gold

I passed a ghost on my return,
a dreamer with a shoulder bare,
And her arched wing outward yearns,
Trailing uselessly in the air

I stared ahead and did not glance
aside, I did not dare my eyes
to touch on her, to take the chance
of noticing her silent sighs

And as I traced the path she'd taken,
Stepping on blood with cringing feet,
A line of feathers lay forsaken,
Snow on the grass and the lover's seat

August 2, 2008

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