Back to Issue 10
by Rebecca Edgren
What if the angel came in winter
not with sun-tongued brightness
but as something more like snow
on the white air in a cold orchard, late
in a harsh year—
Its descent, if anything, like an exhale
of sage sparrows from the windbreak poplars
sudden uprush and absence
of so many wings.
And its presence a horizon
hidden among aisles of apple trees
still bent with carrying
last season’s fruit.
What if the angel uttered its word
into winter like that, into loneliness
and ice on a forgotten crop—what then
would you ask me
Rebecca Edgren’s writing has previously appeared in Whale Road Review, The Windhover, and Fare Forward, and her poetry has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. She lives in Jackson, Tennessee.