Red feather

Maybe the red feather wasn't anything, all that special.

Birds do lose their feathers now and again, lightly floating, through the air, they tumble along, lost in the wind.

Life has been tumbling me around, lost in a hurricane. I found my hope, the morning I found the feather. Maybe, I'll lose the feather; my hope, once again.

Maybe, I'll stumble across it, as I tumble through this life.

Feathers remind me, always have hope.