The Dove flies soft and swift,
Frail wings against the burdened air.
Below His circles
Sleepless malice surges from the depths.
The Bird knows what will follow:
The thunder from the deep,
Declaring ownership of earth’s humanity;
the rhythm of the drums declaring death forever.
The Dove knows what will follow,
And knowing it, He hurtles toward the earth
Against the mist that masks the mighty serpent,
For He is undeterred.
He swoops like eagles,
Streaking light against the stretching darkness.
The pebble in His claw is smooth and giant-slaying.
It strikes the serpent’s head.
The drums fall silent.
Sun breaks through, and trumpets rent the air.
The joyful end has come.
JESSICA L. PERRONE wrote this when she lived in Maple Grove, Minnesota.
