sanchopanzalit
- Oct 10, 2019
- 1 min read

I watched a white feather

Fergus Anthony

Ride the wind down and hover

a while before surfing

the breeze to the garden fence,

the passing through, rise above

plants, bricks, plastic bags;

a shopping trolley filled with

dirt. And I, finding beauty in this,

crushed my spent cigarette underfoot,

composing this celebration.

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