Oh lusty feather,

Who once poked the spines of those

          who leaned for comfort

on overly expensive throw cushions.

Spine meeting spine.

You once clung to the back of a brown spotted bird

         of some kind,

If your brown spots are any indication–

And I think it might be–

Although I hope it wasn’t a flight-less bird

Lest my metaphor be screwed.

Some minion of a captain of industry

Plucked you from flight

And stuffed you with your brothers, sisters, cousins thrice removed

          and possibly some ex-girlfriends

Into a puffy square

Locked by a zipper.

Zipper’s a funny word isn’t it?

Zipper.

But you, brave feather

Did not accept your fate,

You worked your surprisingly strong spine through layers of fiber and self-esteem issues

I will not be pigeon-holed!” you declared without even apologizing for the terrible pun.

And this fateful morning, you found yourself outside of your prison of comfort

Not far outside, mind you,

(Perhaps that part of the plan wasn’t entirely clear to you)

But outside nonetheless

Released from your confines, your boundaries.

And now, what adventures await you?

I could glue you into my book

A prisoner of unlikely metaphor and strange poetry

But that would not be true to the spirit of my ode.

I’ve endowed you with the Homeric spirit and so off on your Odyssey you’ll go.

I will assist you in finding a portal and a small gust of air,

Because we all need a guide and a favouring breeze,

But beyond that, you are perfectly equipped for the journey.

Happy travels Little Feather.

It’s considered good form to send a postcard now and then.