At the docks.


It’s a feather, held in my hand, by the docks.

So I let go of it. It flits and swoops round in a spiral and gently lands in the water.

Jesus, that was so beautiful. Wish I’d filmed it.

Feathers are obviously designed to fly. And that’s just the one, on its lonesome.

The water looks like black oil, addled with infectious disease.

Did I spoil the feather? Or did I enhance the pathogen-ridden water?

Or even worse, did my actions just have no effect whatsoever…

2 thoughts on “At the docks.

  1. Ciao love! Enjoyed this…think everyone can relate…wondering our effects on time, others…wondering if our actions matter and to what degree. Grazie for sharing. Hugs, Bells xxx

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