Loose Feathers

 

She planted her easel by rivers edge

Under skies slightly greyer than blue

Soul visions imparted onto a canvas

By colors reflected in glistening dew

 

Poring beneath the shade of willows

For remnants she wished to possess

Collecting every loose fallen feather

Where her angels all gathered to rest

 

Sewn into pillows to lay her head on

When dreams chanced to take flight

Haunted by voices of old apparitions

Chanting hymns to the troubled night

 

Wounded birds sing their sad songs

Of how a disturbed honeybee stings

Mournful refrains elicit the ushering

Of feathers falling from angel wings

 

Memories abide in peaceful slumber

The breaths of babies circle her head

Resting upon clouds of loose feathers

The angels spent to make up her bed

 

s. paul

(May 2023)