breath like

I have been making work in the botanical gardens
sitting under a palm tree that a sulphur crested cockatoo lives in.
Each day he sheds a feather
I watch it fall to the ground and pick it up.

One day a large feather was shed
but a small butcher bird got to it first
we almost had a fight for it
but I let the bird pick it up in it's beak and add it too it's nest
in the palm tree opposite the one that provides me shade.

Actually there are 6 cockies that I watch
2 live in the palm tree I sit under,
2 live across the way in a pine tree
and another two live in a tree I don't know the name of.
At around 6 pm they all call out to each other
and chat across the sky.
The down that I collect
is like breath
and it is how I my heart feels at times,
gentle and soft
yet capable of a loud and high pitched squawk for life.

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