BLACK + SPECKLED + GOLD

The feather fell down before
me....a beautiful thing.
Black with speckled gold
thread. Yet I did not think of
the black or of the speckled
gold or trouble myself to
ponder from which fine bird it
came, I thought only of the
loss, the terrible terrible loss.... 

of a thing that was made to
give comfort, warmth shade,
that was nurtured and cared
for and preened to perfection,
that was loved and regarded
with love and affection...

had been part of the perfect,
now lesser and torn, had left a
poor bird to keep searching
and mourn... for a part of
itself that could never be
found, for a part of itself that
would rot in the ground...

for the loved thing now gone
that could never be saved,
now destined to lie all alone in
life's grave and knew only the
loss from which all things are
made...
The terrible terrible loss

M P 21/5/21
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