That Setting Rise

I feel

when the wind blows,

and I think

I see the sinking sun 

over once azure skies

that somewhere else now rises.

 

I saw a feather.

Just a feather.

It was white and gray tipped,

and pointed southwest.

I looked up that way

to the setting sun

that seemed to me

to make my chilled breath glow.

 

And I felt

that warmth – 

not from sun, nor shine,

nor even from feathered signs.

I felt from that sight

I imagine of that sad soul

who sees a feather

tilted southeast

toward the glowing breath of a brightening day.

 

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