Blue-and-Gold Macaw Feather

Just a feather on the aviary floor –
I hold it to the light. Sapphire
one side of the shaft, lapis

on the other, like earth’s arc
as it tilts into space.

And the underside, sulphur
as a field of rape, is a palette
where cadmiums roil.

I balance the fallen blade
between thumb and forefinger.

I could paint a world
with this brush, these hues.

Is this how God felt as He drew
His colours across the void?

© Pascale Petit, from Fauverie (Seren Books, 2015)

By kind permission of the poet