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
    to believe?


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.