Feather (178/366)

“my love was a feather, a flat sleeping thing.”

Robert Creeley (b. 1926), U.S. poet. The Whip (l. 2-3). . . The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975 (1982) University of California Press.

TIME:  8:29 PM
PLACE:  Ball field
SUBJECT:  Feather

MB had his last baseball game of the season this evening.  They lost.  19-12.  They played ok, except for the inning that almost every boy made an error and they gave up 7 un-earned runs.  *shakes head*  On the bright side, I was able to take this close-up of a feather that was by my chair.  I think those two light pill-shaped objects on the top middle are some sort of bug larvae.  Lovely.