The Feathers
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Each feather floats in mid air,
like the gliders, sailing toward joy.
Each light feather glows
in darkness, ever, yearns to land.
The gentle breeze whizzes by,
sweeping them toward the lake;
a young tree, all alone, watches
in happiness... it's flowers beam.
Each golden ray of the July sun
caresses their scarlet stands ...
Each baby finch, from its nest,
welcomes these feathers home.
Written by: Tri Tran
March 3, 2005
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