The Wing Of A Dove

. The mourning dove visual manna from heaven above beauty and delicacy in one form sailing sailing down from the blue to perch on my railing perched there staring curiously at me as if she could the sadness see through the picture window as if she'd come to sow her own song of woe. . She perched there for the longest time a fluttering wind chime, a feathered rhyme and then I saw it in her eyes as plain as golden rays in a sunrise I rose from my chair yelling No, my hands screaming out but she launched anyway despite my horrified shout straight at the window she was coming to me she had something to say, that graceful little beauty. . Nothing was going to stop her from winging her way flying straight as an arrow she came to me anyway She crashed into the window over and over again five different times she tried but she couldn't break in then she flew up into the tree and there she grieved and to the boughs she cleaved while her sad song she weaved throughout the day and into the evening until her mate joined her in her keening. . Later I looked through the window and saw imprinted there like the image of a heartfelt prayer the left wing of the dove, each feather etched in dust on the glass reminding me of angels in a Sunday School class I will not go outside and wash it off though my family often does scoff God is talking to me, a message He has hinted through the wing of a dove on my window imprinted. . . ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~©2017 Susan Williams LikeShow more reactionsComment