An Angelic Wake Poem by Christoph Praus
An Angelic Wake
Her silvery wings cry,
Let fly! Let fly!
And she raises a great shout,
Powdered light she cuts like ice,
Through brook and canyon narrow,
Stone and soil melt, evaporating,
Let fly! Let fly!
And the wind in passing dies;
Monday, February 23, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: dream
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5/17/2024 2:28:15 AM # 1.0.0.1119
