Birds of a Feather
Tossed about in the storm—the tidepools and the heather.
Cast adrift in the air like a tattered feather.
Blown wherever fate decrees, determined by the weather.
One surrenders all control when they are without tether.
Blown up to the highest points, then dropped to the nether.
Never knowing what comes next. Never knowing whether
somewhere there’s another soul, skin weathered into leather
to furnish some protection once we have flocked together.
The prompt today is tether.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
Love your rhyming verses! Poor bird, ‘blown wherever fate decrees, determined by the weather!’
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Poor birdie. You know I’m a real softy for birds.
I saw my pet parrot die in February. It is so distressing how they look when the life leaves them. So distressing!
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Yes..I know exactly what you mean. So sorry you lost your friend, for they are that.
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Sad end for the the birds.
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Alas, yes. And humans blown by an ill wind as well.
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And for us all in this situation.
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Found this lovely blue-footed boobie washed ashore on the beach in La Manz–far away from its usual habitat.
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