Hikers before me have left feathers
stuck in the cracks of a wooden trail marker
at a junction.
Small feathers with downy barbs
flutter in the fall breeze
where delicate shafts may not hold.
Large feathers with curled edges
and sturdier quills sit deep and solid.
As memes they stand
to carry the import of one road taken,
not another,
on this day, not that.
This small family of Kilroy was Here
gather in good company
to speak to a public not yet come,
inviting them to leave their own mark
across a waiting space.
Feather Meme by Marianne Brems | Garden Lavender Poetry Reed Diffuser
Marianne Brems is the author of the full-length poetry collection Stepping Stones and three chapbooks In Its Own Time, Unsung Offerings, and Sliver of Change. Her poems have also appeared in literary journals including Cider Press Review, Front Porch Review, Remington Review, and Green Ink Poetry. She lives, cycles, and swims in Northern California.
