For the Love of Angels
The mild stickiness of humidity
a remnant of the evening storm.
The shiny object on the floor
curiously draws attention.
Its twisting metal rim
reflects the dawning sun.
The tiny cameo pill box
unseen for years.
A soft white feather
lies nestled in its womb.
The downy plume
stirs feelings of possibility.
This miracle of space
births love from nothing.
Copyright© Jacqui Burnett 2016