Land gently

My brain said “Thursday,” but the calendar shot back, “Tuesday!” It was shaping up to be one of those weeks. Everything took too long. Work spilled out of the daytime bucket, making a mess of the evenings. An itchy, irritated deer fly bite kept me awake at night, manifesting on my elbow the rumpus in my noggin. I made mistakes, lost my patience, gnawed on the inside of my lower lip like I always do when I’m chewing off more than I can bite.

I stared out the window, without seeing, trying to recall a thought I’d had seconds before, one trounced by a loudmouth, less important idea. That’s when the feather caught my eye. It appeared to originate from within the branches of the silver maple, to the left, but there was no sign of its former owner. No preening form perched on a willowy branch. Nothing in flight. Just a dainty spear, gray and twirling in tight spirals, its shaft end tipping just slightly toward earth, the flight feather of a mockingbird.  

Let go.

Let go again.

Again.

Lighten.

Move softly.

Land gently.

You have everything you need.

~Elizabeth