A four-leaf clover,
a bluebird in flight
omens from realms
unseen by mortal sight.

A breath of light
when weariness weighs,
a hush of healing
in fevered days.

Threads of the divine
woven in silence
angelic pulses,
shifts in frequency,
the shimmer of feathers
left like breadcrumbs on the path.

A penny glints in dusted gold
did you feel the nudge?
Did the veil grow thin?

Have you found the message
etched in wind,
carried in dream,
resting at the water’s edge?

Faith
the quiet flame
that guides us through
the shadows and the stars.

Have you found yours?
Perhaps…
a feather by a creek
was the answer all along.