MARNIE ANDREWS | Serendipity
Issue 11
Above my head a hawk dips by the sun
Then drops a feather, as if toward my hand,
Floating down, I remember that one
Spirit, just flown, still sheds her gifts that land
So gently on my soul. A woodpecker’s cry
Pierces my reverie, reminder of the curtain
Death draws down, and memory of her wry
Musings, sharp wit, and kind action