Little Wing

I’m delving into my collection of feathers for my locvThey’re to weave into her hair.  I looked first into my wooden cigar box that is filled with ultra-warm, downy, drifting, drift-away feathers.

You know.

The one that floats down smack dab in your path while you’re on your way somewhere. But you can’t stop because you’re late for work and you don’t have your camera anyway.  Still.   It makes you pause  .  .  .  .  .

Or the one that stops you in your tracks and pulls you right off of the path.  Makes you kneel down in the damp leaves to take a photo and everyone asks why your knees are wet.

Smile a secret smile and show them this:

There’s the smug one that you pass on your bike every day for a week.  Glimpsing it from the corner of your eye.  Stuck there on a brambly twig, reaching out from a hedgerow.  Knowing you can’t resist it.

And just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, there are the ones that remind you that there are angels.

However, these were all a bit too fluffy for Turtle, who after all, swam and delved for mud and carried creatures on her back.

I decided to get out my special ‘reserve’ feathers.  I keep these in a satin lined box from Fortnum & Mason.  It is a wing I found somewhere, while I was out walking.  Its something I do.  Find wings.

These feathers represent the winged ones who helped to make the mud solid in the Muscogee creation story.

Remember where we left off?

“Everyone began to pile their land up together.  Soon there was much land, Ekvnv, being formed about.

Of all the creatures, Fuswv, the Birds, were closest to land.  They clambered up onto it.  Soaked to the bone, they stretched their wings out to dry.  As they flapped their wings upwards, they came to know flight.

Fuswv, the Birds, happy at finding themselves airborne, also desired to help.  With their wings, they dried the land.”

This fragment is from a version of the Muscogee creation story told by Emma Burney, a Black Creek of Jacksonville, Florida.  The entire story can be found in Creation Myths and Legends of the Creek Indians which I’m currently reading.

Little Wing

The feathers are so delicate, tiny and translucent.   Yet, I think that these feathers truly could dry the world.

fragile strength

What Jimi said:

“Well, that was one song on there we did a lot of sound on, you know.  We put the guitar through the Leslie speaker of an organ, and it sounds like jelly bread, you know . . . . . It’s based on a very, very simple American Indian style, you know, very simple.
I got the idea like, when we was in Monterey, and I just happened to . . .  just looking at everything around.  So I figured that I take everything I see around and put it maybe in the form of a girl maybe, something like that, you know, and call it ‘Little Wing’, in other words, just fly away.   Everybody really flying and they’s really in a nice mood, like the police and everybody was really great out there.  So I just took all these things an put them in one very, very small little matchbox, you know, into a girl and then do it.   It was very simple, you know.   That’s one of the very few ones I like.”

“When I’m sad, she comes to me
With a thousand smiles, she gives to me free
It’s alright she says it’s alright
Take anything you want from me,
-Jimi Hendrix, Little Wing, 1967


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