If you look, feathers are everywhere. Little leftover bits of birds strewn around, dropped by the wayside, hints of flight underfoot. I have a few here in the house, pied ones mostly, but others too, some from birds whose names I don’t even know. In the car I have a parrot feather hooked into the sun visor. In Auburn I see tiny soft pink from galahs, and chook feathers. I went to see Pam this week –  she has heaps of feathers collected in jars throughout her house. They look beautiful; a reminder of those lovely creatures who are true (and mostly wild) companions of our lives.

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1 Response to Feathers

  1. Pingback: Stitches and stories | Stories of buttons and bread

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