a dropped feather to freedom

A tiny blue soft off gray feather

sat alone on the ground

its sheen feathery fresh

uncomplicated by the dirt, and the dust.

She had flown off and away, far

off into the high branches of the dark forest

where sunlight gathered gently

touching softly the branches of leaves

and filtering down in shafts of

magical dusty sunlight

where other birds sang, and created a

symphony, welcoming her into their enchantment.

She had flown fast and furiously

when she felt a gentle tug on

one of her lovely graceful sapphire

feathery plumes,

she felt betrayed.

Earlier on, she had sung a

trill of high staccato rifts,

with long endless notes

bursting from her feathered little

puffs in her throat, warbling

in otherworldly drifts of

song.

Magical floods of feelings sending

chills all over my skin.

The canvas with the cage with

the vanishing bars and the door

closed by a brush,

worried her innocence.

In the air tiny red flags waved

their warnings.crickets, beetlebugs, dragonflies too.

She could hear the chatter of the forest birds, crying to her high

up in the darkness where sunlight graced the branches in a subtle

golden glowing.

The light seemed to dapple the colors of

viridian and perelene with a soft yellow, maybe indian yellow,

softer, rougher that lemons.

As she flew high away from the mysterious canvas with the curious bars,

and the door of trapped consequences,

she tucked her tiny feet up high together

against her soft tiny belly of her feathery softness,

not thinking for a second,

just darting away

following the trills of the voices

whose song pulled her high,

safely into their rites of passage

where earlier, she had not been ready.

That tiny tug of awakening,

her feather interrupted,

sent her to brave new heights,

never dreamed about before.

She felt the painter hiding behind the tree,

she knew, she smelled other flowers

suddenly she

flew away.