feather day

i could almost fly

eye on the prize

but earth tingles underfoot

so i keep my wings

for another way,

scale tipping towards the land

where so many standing to stop the slaughter, 

why do some try

to kill the soil?

. . . because they eat money for lunch,

such poor taste

those rich bastards

 

feather day

keeping it light

fighting the good fight

with the might of light

 

light 

seeping into

the bones 

and tingly hairs . . .

light

into the shafts 

of feathers