The feather's markings
are a small part
of a bird's markings,
but when flicked through
each vane springs back
into position
holding a sharp edge
where black meets white.
Even though it cannot fly
when dropped
it's carried away
by a gust of wind.

When work is done
who would need to be more,
when so many live life
keeping sheets of metal
in the sky.

Tristan Moss

If you have any comments on this poem, Tristan Moss would be pleased to hear from you.