I caught a feather once


I caught a feather once;

plucked it from the sky

when the bird

had no use for it.

A surplus snowflake

on a windless day;

a random thought from the blue

when the black lifted

on a wordless day.

A quill,

a tickle in the making,

drawing a smile

from senseless touch

and the scratch upon paper.

I caught a feather once

but I’m too slow

to do it