Make of me a single feather,
Light enough for the living wind;
Yet still, to gather purpose.
To be aware of this life
A single plume on your wing
Quiet and supple.
I don’t need eyes to see
Or know which way you plan to go
I just want to feel
The wind of your action
Not as a fallen leaf or a flake of snow
But as an agent of purpose
disappearing into your form.
Keep me rooted to your divine will
Just as feet feel the cool earth move
between heal and toes, warm and soft.
– jeffrey vionito