In the morning light, feathers drift,
Carried softly by the whispering breeze,
Each one a story, a gentle gift,
From branches high, or the whispering trees.

They dance with grace on the open air,
A ballet of whispers, silent and free,
In their flight, there’s a delicate care,
A soft reminder of what life can be.

Colors blend in harmonious flight,
A tapestry woven in the sky’s embrace,
With every flutter, they capture the light,
A fleeting beauty we yearn to trace.

Feathers, gentle, yet strong in their way,
Speak of journeys, of dreams yet to soar,
In their quiet, they have much to say,
Of the silent paths we’ve traveled before.