‘He will cover you with his feathers and under his wings you will find refuge’ – Psalm 91:4
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Amongst the blue of open sky,
Two wings of a lonely bronze.
A foreigner in lands unknown,
A lost call, echoing, gone.
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The feathers fall, the feathers rise
With delicate fluttering,
They hesitate, in trembling breath,
As isolation floods in.
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A silhouette across the sun
Brings light to date unclear.
The warmth of His wings surround her,
As he takes away her fear.
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The picture of purest glory,
He is the King above all kings.
He covers her with His feathers,
She finds refuge in his wings.
The Lilies of the Field 