I dreamt of a great Storm once. It rained and snowed for days, and we were housebound, thinking it would never cease. However, as it began to end, there came strange winds, swirling feathers, white feathers, like the ones from an Angel’s wings. And they nestled on our house, like a huge white dove, spreading its wings and resting, waiting to take flight again, waiting it seemed, for someone to climb the roof, mount its back and fly. Was it a vision of the future. . . for now?
Has it come for my Beloved? Will it stay on our rooftop, patient, cooing, waiting for the sign to come from Heaven? Will the Lord send his whistle in the wind, a note to ring clear and call my Love back to the stars and his home? And will he rise free from fear and mount the Dove for that glorious ride, knowing all will be good and safe . . . arriving at last to where he came from, knowing I will be joining him soon . . . when White Feathers come to rest again?