poetry and prose about place

wings of angels

with 4 comments

As part of my at-home-writers-retreat, I had a ‘break’ day yesterday. I had my hair cut (always relaxing) and went with my husband for a drive to our cabin. We read our book aloud (a Philip R. Craig Martha’s Vineyard Mystery) and took lots of photos. This evening I wrote a poem, based on today’s photos. Most are blurry, because of the relentless wind.



wings of angels


I don’t believe in angels,

though I catch their whisper

between stems of Poa,

meadow grasses and blue.

Discover feather fall,

seed tufts of goldenrod,

Solidago. Wing tips

disguised as autumn leaves,

staghorn sumac or oak.

Glimpsed along low ditches,

silken hairs of rabbitsfoot

Trifolium arvense.

Find feathers aloft, on air,

cirrus or stratus clouds,

or wind-smoothed cotton-grass,

tassels of Eriophorum.

Catch scent—Dennstaedtia

hayscented fern, or cedar,

sets cones for another year.

I think of angel wings

and refuse to believe.



Copyright Jane Tims 2019


All my best,



Written by jane tims

October 11, 2019 at 7:00 am

4 Responses

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  1. So much going on between the stems of meadow grass ~ love your attentiveness and “feather fall”.

    Liked by 1 person

    Catherine Smith

    October 11, 2019 at 3:20 pm

    • Thank you Catherine. Some days you can look at regular things in a very different way.


      jane tims

      October 11, 2019 at 8:36 pm

  2. “Wing tips

    disguised as autumn leaves”

    I love the imagery those lines stir up in my mind.

    Liked by 1 person

    Barbara Rodgers

    October 11, 2019 at 8:41 am

    • Hi Barbara … thanks … written in my head as we were driving along the road … so much colour this time of year …


      jane tims

      October 11, 2019 at 10:47 am

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