Feathered Skies

The sky is a feathered mass of down tonight

like the kind you might find in your pillow

soft, billowing, goose-gray tufts

meld with luminous swan white

gracefully backlit by the moon’s distant gaze.

Happiness is an afterthought

sadness a second-hand notion

the sky isn’t thinking tonight

she just is, while her

flight across the limitless expanse

takes her round and round,

a ceaseless migratory circuit

over a darkly contemplative world.