If I had not stopped to watch a feather flying by,
I would not have seen its landing–
a tiny pure white feather.
Gently, I blew a soft breath
to send it back to the spring.
If I had not looked up to watch
the feather gliding over the roof,
I would not have seen
the crescent moon
hanging at midday.
"Feather at Midday" by Sr. Dang Nghiem, from Healing: A Woman's Journey from Doctor to Nun. © Parallax Press, 2010.
Photography credit: Unknown (originally color).