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.)