Writing becomes like a blue jay’s feather

drifting in the breeze,

blending in-and-out of clear crisp sky

while swirling with ease.

See what words appear in the circular bends

as feather flutters forming

invisible sentences with the sharp tip,

a quill of impermanence

so words slip by

like milky black tea over my lips,

as i sip,

settling warmness into my soul,

settling tea leaves at the bottom of my cup.

A mug circular in its creation

of spinning around the potter’s wheel

much like a Buddhist monk’s gentle touch

to swirl prayer wheels into motion:

a single letting go

to let a circle grow

invisible prayers with the parched lips,

as a blue jay’s feather

drifts,

softness sifts

into stillness.

A sentence completed

as the feather lands in the pebbles of a pathway.

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Editor: Bryonie Wise

Photo Credit: Pixoto