A feather,
arrested by a blade of grass,
flutters anonymously
in the breeze.
A fragile, soft and downy flag
flying lighter than
the Western wind
from a free-spirit of a dove, maybe,
that flew above the moorland
and the sea.
I stoop to touch its curled form;
its shining rib of ivory.
and hope another gentle dove
when seeking lining for a nest
will find it lying there
And interweaving it with moss
will make of it a warm bequest
in nurturing new life and love.
atomsofstars 
Atom, this is lovely and I remember these lines from a distant past! The thought of “nurturing new life and love” says it all – there is nothing in this world that is not of this world. In all of nature we see the code of God’s love.
Good morning, PapaG ..
Thank you very much … I’m pleased that you enjoyed these lines . I think I wrote them about three years ago .. I’m very imprecise about the time because I never think to date anything!
I do remember the moment and the place of the ‘ arrested ‘ feather though .. I was walking along the beautiful stretch of coastal meadowland of West Pentire overlooking Crantock Bay.
Love to PapaG Junior x