Poetry

As Our Feathers Fall

Feathers fall eloquently better

without tumult in the weather.

That must be spelled in letters

that go specifically together.

Anger in us may begin to swell.

It’s remedy may be hard to tell.

We search for it through hell;

to stave it, face it must we do well.

Published by Jared Winchester

There is no greater injustice than silencing the innocence of the heart. View all posts by Jared Winchester

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