But to you, they are treasures
that light up your eyes
as you hunt the hot sand,
adding to your growing bouquet.
Or, in your sweet 4-year-old words,
your feather family.
There’s mama and papa feather,
brother, sister and baby feathers, too.
All arranged neatly by size
as if posing for a portrait.
Only it’s me taking the picture,
adding to my collection.
Remembering your many yesterdays
and imagining tomorrows to come.
Your name means Dove.
Your first word was “pajaro”- Spanish for bird
“Pabo, pabo, pabo!” you squealed
every time a bird flew in our yard.
Feather girl, bring your treasures home.
Wash them in the bathroom sink,
Sprinkle them on the floor and in your bed,
Decorate your life and be happy.
Take these broken wings and let your spirit soar.