healingwords: poetry for the soul

Two years now since we left Dad's quiet funeral and walked in the frosty woods, catching falling leaves which blew around us like shining stars. Today whilst driving towards the village,  loss and death on my mind, this angel cloud appeared. Just a cloud but it made me smile and lifted the melancholy. This short poem reflects looking forward with hope.  IN THE CLOUDS Wisps of angel white drift in  sky  the colour of her Irish eyes, rising between peaks dripping gold with the last flare of setting sun slipping over the Sierra, hilltop homes embraced by feathered wings floating slowly into strong hands, holding me, lifted skywards, forever safe.  © 2018 Jacqueline Knight Cotterill.  All rights reserved.  

In the coastal town of Xabia, a short walk from the smiling Arenal bay beach, thronged with tourists is a still unspoilt section of rocky shore. The natural sandstone is weathered into spiky pools, reached by clambouring up and down stepped remains of the quarried stone, now found decorating villas throughout the Marina Alta. It was here I caught sight of a perfect white feather, caught in a slick of sparkling salt, dried by the late Summer sun.  SALT FEATHER Blown on the sea breeze, spiralling down from the soft underwing  of a passing gull or placed unseen by an angel's grace, the frosted, snow feather glints.  Curled in salt tracery, the lick of seawash left by moontide's swell, trapped in rock dimples, transformed by nature's alchemy into a lustrous, crystalline crisp. The dying rays of the setting sun gift their warming touch, illuminating the perfect semiplume, its crystal net blinking like dew drops dancing on ...