Stark white feathers turn soft,
almost frail,
almost old,
with the heavy weight of time.
The fluffy wings drop limp,
motionless,
and the bright, creamy color
fades
to a gruesome gray.
As the feathers shed,
falling down,
falling,
falling
through the skies
and picked up by the wind like a balloon losing its air,
new wings emerge.

The new wings are youthful,
full of innocence and fresh scents,
ready to envelop its owner in a joyful embrace.
The white feathers sparkle and shine
with the shimmers and glimmers of a
sunny
cloudless
new day.
The new wings are
beautiful,
unique,
different,
like the fresh scales of a snake after a molt.
The feathers are small and so soft,
almost frail,
almost lost,
in the heavy weight of the world.