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Sometimes a feather

I thought you could use something to cheer you up after this hard American week. So here’s a photo essay.

Sometimes a feather lands in a bucket

And sometimes it lands in the sky.

Sometimes it blooms into a ball.

Sometimes it slides onto the ground.

Sometimes it pecks a mailbox post.

Sometimes it crawls, frozen in the dirt.

Sometimes they sit on a gate watching.

Sometimes it drifts down from the sky to walk across the road.

And sometimes it flies up, and becomes shy, peeking out in a flash of light.

And that’s all I know for now. (I may post more often than every month or so because there are words and pictures brimming these days.)