Feather's Fall

A feather, plucked from an angel's wing by the point of a distant star, falls slowly and gracefully in the sky. Watch as something magical happens when the feather crosses the threshold of heaven into a beautiful, blue summer sky.

The angel gasped as it was plucked.

She knew the deed was done.

She saw the feather past her grasp,

Its slow descent begun.

Her wing she’d caught upon the point

Of a distant star so bright.

Now floating down in twirls and twists,

This plume as soft as light.

 

A  feather from an angel’s wing

As white as winter’s snow,

Parted from the towering sky

And drifting further low.

Sometimes darting to and fro,

Swept by heavenly wind.

Sometimes sailing soft and slow,

It lightly does descend.

 

You hear a giggle gently loosed

And feel the brush of wings.

You see a flash, but was it true,

Or was it unreal things?

The feather’s gone, but in its place

A  new thing floats so high.

A  gentle, fluffy cloud of white

Born where the feather died.

 

It seems to me that clouds must be

What’s left of feathers fell,

When plucked out from an angel's wing

And left to cloud’s birth tell.

So next time summer days come sweet

With skies so warm and bright,

Remember, each fair cloud we see

Was once a feather white.

 

Reviews

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I like this. It has nice imagery and flows well. Thank youfor sharing!

[Deborah Leah Krempa]

A very beautiful poem. Thank you for sharing. Debileah