Feather In the Dust

Giving my horse
loose reins
I slip from the saddle
all the while
keeping an eye
on a lone feather
lying in the dust
Storm clouds tumble
across open skies
No sounds
but the banshee howling
of the desert winds
How did this feather
chance to be here
far from its fellows
No birds fly here
No souls gather here
None but me
My horse
and this feather
lying in the dust
© Skya Wode
01 February 1998