mom speaks to me with feathers,
soft messages prompting my journey,
punctuation under my footstep.
this summer i collected six black feathers
i wondered what sense
came with these announcements.
before leaving for my wife's surgery
i found a blue feather in our evergreen
out of the blue,
a silken promise of open skies.
the purification took place,
Nata had malignancy pared out.
the surgeon cut out my tongue.
i carried my devastation outside of the hospital,
wept over a sewer pipe, broken gestalts,
negotiated with eternity,
smoked a cigarette.
under my foot, a blue feather.
when Nata came out of surgery
she said, "i'm glad i got that off my chest".
i knew we'd be okay.
i told her about the feather,
a mother's reassurances
that there will be blue skies.....
visit soon for more writings from the book 'lifeboats, lifeboats, lifeboats'
visit the book 'heaven from pennies' HERE