Eagle’s outstretched wings

Soar and glide on high thermals

Gospel of St. John.

Wings

A great big, fluffy, fat pawed, dog,
Whose Sunday name is bear,
Curls up inside his favourite place,
My brand new wing backed chair.

It curls around him, beds him in
Makes big bear, somehow small.
His huge and frantic energy,
Is barely there at all.

A wing can be so sturdy
So powerful and strong.
Or just a simple feather
A note from Angel song.

Inhale the new spring morning,
As birdwings skim the air.
Feel the nub of shoulder blades,
As wings poke through your chair.

Tiny breath light colours,
Miracles made real.
Winged and iridescent
Harmony to heal.

A week has past with sadness,
In the losing of a friend
Who helped so many people,
Keep their wings until the end.

Our wings become well hidden
In the living of our lives,
Like busy winged and yellow bees,
All frantic, building hives.

But when my heart is open,
To the friends surrounding me,
I know I am already soaring,
High and winged and free.

LW

Keep flying my wonderful friends, wherever you are