An Angel Walks In Snowdrifts Poem by Mark Heathcote

On cashmere snows,
an angel walks in snowdrifts.
It's here she weaves no tracing steps-
wolves or roe deer trackers can follow.

Just-when-the wind has fallen-hush
downwind, she-watches-over-us.
Just as an icicle hangs in orbit, she hovers,
she glides and settles directly above us.

On a whispered thread-
the world is hung-upon-a-silent-breath.
The sluggish stopped heart stops to move on as new
as the wind and snow her wings flutter on a glow.