Whispering Wings

Whispering wings ~ feathers afloat, Molting and marvelous, magnanimous Wonders, alighting in familiar places. ~ Each feather remembers the warmth, The pear-shaped cradle ere birth. The quietude-nest, the guardian enfolds. ~ Even in rapid flight, into ebony night, Wings, like a butterfly’s, though they sing, trumpet no sound, unless one’s in tune ~ With God, unless the Spirit is just right, Unless the Father is prepared to save Or take away or just delight - just because… ~ Molting and marvelous, plucked from memories, The magnanimous calls to the perceiver — The flight, the whisper, the hesperus-hour, ~ Tingle of senses, the angelic featherbed Releases an echo of space and time To loved ones left behind…a single dove. ~ Even the blind, deaf and dumb recover their senses, grab hold of the felicitous flight …somehow, one’s guardian angel delivers this gift. ~ Godspeed, feather-light, wings that glow whiter than snow. The Holy Spirit prepared to disentangle truth from fiction in one’s frightful season. ~ Guardian-wing’d, miracle snow-drift, lights up those dust-filled dendrites, attempts to clear the cobwebs — spread of peace and light. ~ Next to her, smiling wide, exact replica of an angel - Mom. Next to her frame — a feather-gift treasured by my father. 1/12/2022