ReflectionPerspective

Tail feathers

I wanted a cockatoo to see me off before the next chapter. The birds never came. Something of them still travels with me.

I wanted to see a cockatoo before I left.
A red or a yellow tail to say goodbye.

I watched the trees for a week.
Listened for that wailing call that carries further than they do.
Nothing came.

Then a relative met a stranger by chance.
Someone who collects feathers.
They put me in touch.

I asked for a goodbye.
I was given something lighter to carry.