Copyright 2000, Sara Zwern

The Fall   The surface was beautiful, Smooth and perfect. And I danced lightly Over its milky gold radiance.   I looked up to see a fine feather Waltzing gracefully on the wind. I thought "I'll make this plume An offering -- an offering to the world."   I grabbed it and began to twirl. And as I did a voice Came out of the sky -- "This offering is Unacceptable to us."   I lost my balance, Plummeting to the ground, The feather following me To the same inglorious destiny. We skidded along the facade, Landing like flies on gooey paper. I tried to dance again, But my footsteps became heavy, Each one clumsily violating The once perfect surface.