Manna

| 3 Comments

like slow snow, feathers fall into her hair.
there is nowhere for them to fall from; above, the clear ache of sky.
and owl and a dove, she thinks, and tries to make it come out: benediction.
meanwhile, white and dun, the feathers keep falling.

3 Comments

Really like this poem! Perfect for a cold day with light blowing snow.

Based on an actual occurrence?
Owl= wisdom, dove=peace.

I *love* "the clear ache of sky." So perfect. So amazing. And congrats on the wonderful reviews! Huzzahs!

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This page contains a single entry by Erin Bow published on November 17, 2005 10:57 AM.

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