The
dunes extended upwards
almost
brushing on the sky;
the
sloping rippled hillside
signs
of wind that races by.
Soft
and fine the grains-
powdery to touch;
each tiny
movement forward
s l o w and delicate – not rushed.
Climbing to the top
footsteps weaving out a path;
steep incline led to flat-
a canvas for our art.Her wings arced calmly upwards
as
small arms smoothed the sand-
the
gentle curving motion
from
shoulders to little hands.
Legs
and feet then followed suit-
tiny
particles pushed away-
‘til
on that plane white surface
a beautiful angel lay.
