The Feather In The Sky

This poem was inspired by a brief getaway to Flaxton with my sister and brother-in-law. It was a longer journey than anticipated, the motorway was busy with holiday makers, roadworks and heavy goods vehicles, so on arrival we just sat relaxing outside the caravan observing the comings and goings on site. Glass of wine in hand, Helen and I talked as Phil dozed in the heat of the afternoon. As I watched the clouds sailing slowly through the sky, I spotted one that looked exactly like a single, perfect snow white feather. 

As I pointed it out to Helen, my mind drifted back to childhood. To Mum telling us that some people believe a white feather to be message sent from heaven or a message of comfort and of hope. Readers of my writing will know that Mum died a number of years ago, but with Dad having just left us, the sight of that feather felt less like a coincidence and more like a reminder of them both - perhaps a message that we are never truly alone.

We sat beneath the Yorkshire sky,

where caravans stood still,

and afternoon breathed softly,

with a warm but gentle chill.

The clouds were drifting lazily,

across the open skies,

when a cloud-like feather

appeared before our eyes.

It floated there in whiteness,

so delicate and free,

a little sign from somewhere

that none of us could see.

Was it a whisper from the wind?

A message passing by?

A moment meant for us alone,

written in the sky.

We waited til it disappeared,

but somehow it remained - 

a feather tucked inside our hearts,

a memory gently framed.

So now whenever summer calls,

and clouds drift slowly by,

I'll think about that special day

and that feather in the sky.