Angel Wings
Jun 30 2011 Filed in: Jims Poems
Angel Wings
What if angels
Really have wings
Like a hummingbird,
Beating so fast
You can’t even see them?
The artists have the pictures
All wrong.
For angels hover, after all.
A crow cannot do that,
Which makes me wonder
Why you never see an angel
With the wings of a crow,
Or maybe a peacock’s,
Worthy of the angel’s splendor,
Or fabulous colored wings,
Like birds in the jungle,
Or butterfly wings,
With exploding reds and greens,
And yellows and oranges,
Fit for an Easter sunrise.
But no, it’s always
The wings of a dove grown large,
Great clouds of wings,
Fit to stuff the pillows of gods.
The wings are clean,
But boring as a stormless sea,
Perhaps it’s a forecast of heaven,
A little too boring for me.
What if angels
Really have wings
Like a hummingbird,
Beating so fast
You can’t even see them?
The artists have the pictures
All wrong.
For angels hover, after all.
A crow cannot do that,
Which makes me wonder
Why you never see an angel
With the wings of a crow,
Or maybe a peacock’s,
Worthy of the angel’s splendor,
Or fabulous colored wings,
Like birds in the jungle,
Or butterfly wings,
With exploding reds and greens,
And yellows and oranges,
Fit for an Easter sunrise.
But no, it’s always
The wings of a dove grown large,
Great clouds of wings,
Fit to stuff the pillows of gods.
The wings are clean,
But boring as a stormless sea,
Perhaps it’s a forecast of heaven,
A little too boring for me.