Birds are as close to angels
as I can imagine a being
to be.
Wings wide -long and loud,
with eyes sharp –
brash and unyielding.
I have never really connected to the
Holy Spirit as a dove
like the doves outside my
window growing up
at Dove Haven,
that ancient farm of grey
morning doves.
No. I see the Holy Spirit like this bird.
Outrageous
Mischievous
Muscled
determined.
Swoop great Dove of God
Fly and swoop over me
and brood over us like
God did once.
Does often.
Abide with us
and leave feathers
as your calling card.
or just one.
Or none and yet some small
sign that you have been here.
A parking space,
a kind word,
a splash of red,
a miracle.
A whisper that
All Shall Be Well.
