Feathers
In my blind effort
I had sewn the crow’s feathers
To my own shoulder blades
I admit
My idea was ill conceived
But I had to fly to the top of the mountain
To see you one more time
Instead, in my leap of faith
I fell to the ground
And the coroner announced my death
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.01.28.10.45.45@345ParkNYC