Feather Smith

Locked away in seashell's heart,
Riding hidden, in Apollo's cart,
Tucked away quietly in cranny of loom,
Sleeping peacefully inside a mothers womb,

The Feather Smith lays

Lacing careful intricacies of mineral ore,
Conducting symphonious lions roar,
Branching lightening 'cross grayed sky,
Tying braided colour up on high,

The Feather Smith plays

She is with us when we walk the street,
She is with us in our deepest sleep,
When we smile, she paints the roses on our cheeks,
When we laugh, to spread our joy she seeks,

Practitioner of wonder,
and purveyor of splendour,
She sits right of Gaia's crest,
and left of human breast...

She is the Feather Smith.