Some days, it seems we are a feather in the wind
We start out somewhere, never knowing our end
Can you gather the scattered feathers now
Long carried by the wind, I don’t see how
We cannot recoup the year flow fast
The newness of the feather can’t last
Traveling flight paths with no particular plan
Content to linger wherever it lands
Picked up and carried by the next brisk wind
Never strong enough a feather can’t defend
Floating along viewed by many people
Resting some days on a nearby steeple
A feather in the wind for all to see
Its final resting place is in the
old oak tree