Philippa's short stories/Poems: A DOVE DESCENDS

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Tuesday, April 5, 2011

A DOVE DESCENDS

A DOVE DESCENDS An olive twig falls; I taste its fruit The tar of life melts from my soul. A dove sails low; gold lights his head He parts his beak and holy words pour that grant me grace to kneel at thrones where lost gifts well in glory of gems. The wise, pure bird bears one in shade I see stern... Sign in to see full entry.

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