Feather light; It sits against a
Background of dust then wood.
It will rise soon with the next breeze,
And what seems like a puff of smoke;
For now it’s content, and I watch it.
When it lifts-off my hopes will
Rise with it, and ride its coat-tails,
Dancing with the trail of dust.
This feather, gently poised,
Teaches me how to live today;
My poise will cradle me
Like a cupped hand.
And when met with a challenge,
I will not fight it;
It will be the breeze on which
The feather rose-I will meet it,
It’ll take me where I need to go.
Way Lenn
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/perfect-minute/
