Blue Heron in flight

Monday, July 15, 2013


High in the air, sixty or so feet in the air, Leslie espied the feather.

She called to us, but it took a few moments for the rest of us to see, the single, soft, white, downy under feather, set aloft and quickly forgotten no doubt by some undetermined passing bird.

It was so very high, not easy to see against a white background, a white feather.

It fell, light as a feather, lighter than a thought, drifting weightlessly on the dry summer updrafts.

I would swear and think the rest of them would swear too, course you're not 'posed to talk for other people

she willed that thing right down to her waiting palm, didn't see her move a muscle or a step.


Anonymous said...

she is the sprit mother of of the lost bird of peace.

RMNewell said...

Indeed, she is.