Many feathers show us flight;
One thinks of wings and skylines,
But the feather of an ostrich
Would curse you like a grounded plane.
I’ve been on this search for feathers;
The one that means them all;
The fires of the phoenix;
The waters of the penguin;
The earths of the ostrich;
The winds of the sparrow.
I look and search and find no bird;
I look and search and find all birds,
‘Cause every bird has the balance
Of their own distinct tail feathers.
