left behind 
from above
no direction in mind
drifting aimlessly 
with the clouds
to landscape 
far below
nestled on 
the open range
settled 
for how long
dancing lazily 
to and fro
listening to the 
wind’s song 
twisting branches
bouncing 
breezy gusts
tossed into the air
to travel across
the grassland’s
shimmering bust
whirling pirouettes
sashay up and down
jostled to a standstill
thrown to the ground
grassy thorns penetrate
a blustery 
simmering storm
end over end 
to a full stop
choreographed freeform
lifted upward
void of wind 
full circle resonates
beginning or end
homeward bound
​to line a nest

Squawking interrupts the quiet of the post dawn. Insistent parents teaching fledglings. Myths surround the onyx coloured spirit bird with the piercing eyes. Yet, once you get to know them, they’re the friend you want hanging around. The one who’ll have your back, lets you know you’re watched over, gives you a nudge when you would rather be left alone, and lets you see insightful truths. On this morning, when their wings took them skyward to see who else they could annoy with their noise, the crows left a gift. A reminder of their importance…One lone black feather.