“Feather touch” – the thought dawned during a stroll through the woods in an autumn morning with a friend. She loved putting them on the wall, and she said children loved feather touch. As usual, the thought was dormant in the diary for exactly a year, and now seeing light.
Its not about feathers alone. There are hundreds of human beings who lay abandoned, till a hand picks them up, make them fulfill their destiny.
The photo was taken from a city park recently, on a similar autumn day.
The feather lay in the woods,
Deep under the dry leaves
In the black trodden road
Under the yellow autumn shade…
The feather lay under the woods,
Does it hurt the bird, when it sheds a feather?
No, its one in a million.
Does the feather cry when it hit the cold road?
No, feathers don’t cry.
The feathers don’t cry, they only touch
The feather touch, the soft comforting touch…
One day, a hand picks the feather
Puts on a wall, colors it and cares
It shines and smiles at the world
Touches gently, the soft feather touch.
That is what feathers are made for
To touch gently, the feather touch.