A poetry and photo blog by Peter Jukes
He was a kind of angel,
Building his perch in the rockface,
A DIY nest of packaging and foil,
Keeping a lookout all evening,
White wings furled.
While the sea wind slowly
Rubbed the cliff
He was only a kind of angel,
For what kind of angel
Is afraid to fly?
Then I fell for you:
Surrendered to empty air
Feathers, mortgages, metaphors,
Let go of all my losses
Losing grip of everything
Grey feathered now
Drinking pints of sky
Rinsed by the wind
Peter Jukes 2003
You’re currently reading “Grey Angel,” an entry on Words Images Thoughts
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