White Feather

A black bird pecking on the ground

Seemed happy with what he had found,

Perhaps to decorate, I guessed,

A new or an existing nest.

 

His prize? A feather, snowy white,

Most likely loosened while in flight

From possibly a seagull’s wing

Or pigeon’s, which the wind did bring.

 

He grabbed his treasure in his beak

And flew away; I’d love to peek

At where, among each twig and scrap

He placed that feather in his cap.