her peaked cap,
breast and body
tinted the palest rose.
A bittersweet orange beak
cracks scattered seed.
My Lady is a Messenger:
Never ours to own
She comes and goes
from earth to cosmos
crossing Time at will.
My Lady is a Messenger
When offering the Gift of Hope,
She glows blue and green at midnight.
Red ground receives her prayers,
simple Love songs revive her…
My Lady is a Messenger
The Splendor of Nature
bleeds out on wings of flaming Fire.
Tread lightly around “Desire,”
that double edged sword.
My Lady is a Messenger
crowned by stars.
Spiral galaxies are her womb.
Her Sister Earth heals heartbreak,
cleanses troubled waters.
When silence is what we know
She flies in
as bird—or goddess
The comforting whir of angel wings
the song she sings of home.
January 11, 2015
Read Meet Mago Contributor Sara Wright.