The Law of Falling Bodies

A falcon feather is worn by the moon,

a decoration of deliberate debris

separated from the furious flights 

that bore it in Galilean motion.

Under force my velocity to fall increases:

in love or apart, and

though all things descend at the same rate

in a vacuum, I have never felt the safety net of one.

We are all orbited by dead communication;

the detritus of obselete satellites 

in silent cycles, peels of shorn silver

birth new stars of metal

and this space junk, my inert thoughts too -

all will be drawn to an eventual plummet,

but in essence, I will be left behind,

the plumage of an expired event.

Image from pixabay. Law of Falling Bodies experiment on the moon: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=KDp1tiUsZw8