An Angel Walks In Snowdrifts
M
Mark Heathcote
0
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On cashmere snows,
an angel walks in snowdrifts.
It's here she weaves no tracing steps-
wolves or roe deer trackers can follow.
Just-when-the wind has fallen-hush
downwind, she-watches-over-us.
Just as an icicle hangs in orbit, she hovers,
she glides and settles directly above us.
On a whispered thread-
the world is hung-upon-a-silent-breath.
The sluggish stopped heart stops to move on as new
as the wind and snow her wings flutter on a glow.
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