Meditations on a feather

It’s still there

this morning as I sit

here in this rocker

wrapped in my prayer shawl.

I noticed it yesterday

but it may have been there

before then.

The wind had been calm.

Only the slightest breath

of air caused it to stir

to draw my attention.

Now the breeze has picked up

and yet it clings,

wedged tight, somehow secured

in the lacy tips of the

the Japanese maple.

It looks like it might be

an inner downy feather

from a Blue Jay,

the subtle barring

and size gives it away,

but how did it get there?

The branch is far too delicate

to bear the weight of that bird.

It must have arrived on the wind

to find temporary lodging there.

For how long? I wonder.

When will the wind be strong

enough to tug it free?

And where will it fly?

Will it become nesting material?

In this odd warm winter

did the Jay begin to molt?

Is it missing that

inner warmth?

Was it in a squabble and lost

feathers in the fight?

What happens to all the

feathers, downy ones or ones for flight,

of all the birds that flit

past my window?

Once in while there may be

a random wing or tail feather

to collect.  Less so in hiking

I spot the feathery remains

of a not so fortunate end

caught prey of another.

Is that how all birds

come to an end?

Why don’t I see more feathers

adhering to tree branches

or scattered on the ground?

Where do all the birds go at life’s end?

What happens to their feathers?

skin and bones?

Is there weeping for a day?

Loss among the flock?

Are they anxious about

feather loss?

or my empty feeder?

or what will come tomorrow?

or where they’ll sleep tonight?

Considering the birds

of the air…

(a day later… I saw another downy

feather caught on the bare branches

of a Pine.  Perhaps we see what we

look for.)