I was taking my evening stroll

Skipping a dinner party

Saving myself from having to engage

In the distress of small talk

I strolled

Feeding on the fresh air

And restoring the parts of my mind

That thirsted of quiet.

And something brushed

Against the top of my head

Lightly landing in my outstretched palm

A bird’s feather

Purely, pristinely, softly white

I didn’t know birds

Could wear such magic.

It reminded me of clouds

So I settled under shade

Of a strong, silent oak

Watching the whispering wisps

Moving purposefully across

The endless sky.

How wonderful, I thought to myself

That these symbols of serenity

With no price at all

Offer shelter

To those like me, who are thirsting,

Crying out for quiet

After converting to those gregarious

Ideals in the presence of extroverts

For the vast majority of the day.