Motherload

I'm wondering if

feathers are remembrances,

who's thinking of who?

I'm always on the lookout for feathers because when I spot one I remember my 102 year old mother smiling and think of her near. Sometimes, I walk to look and other times I walk to find.  This morning I was looking and came upon feather after feather along the trail. The feathers seemed untouched and varied. If there had been a bird confrontation at this spot, it had to have been between more than one bird. All were beautiful and I couldn't wipe the smile off of my face. Out of the forty I found, I have three favorites; the yellow tipped one, small as it is, delights me most. I imagine mom thinking of me.