words of a feather…


Here on the farm and moors, feathers are scattered around like confetti blown in the wind. Hidden in grasses along the stone walls, these small works of art and aviation wait for me to find them.

And I cannot help myself – I gather them all up and take my treasures home to display and to ponder.

Feathers speak to me of grace and flight, divine mysteries, ancient histories.

They are soft, sharp slivers of wonder I can hold in my hands.

There is nothing “ordinary” about these quills. Each one has a story to tell…or inspire…

if I will take the time to enjoy their simplicity, explore their complexity.

May you discover something of wonder today, and hold its story in your hand.




4 responses »

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s