An Angel Who Waits

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  • Angelicus
  • All life is poetry unread until we pay attention.

An Angel Who Waits

Sitting here she waits

Her green dress rustling a bit

Sky all around her and green hills

They match her magic eyes.

Her great, dark wings spread

with expectation as the light wind blows

Her feet are bare

surrounded by Queen Anne's lace, cornflowers, bluebells

Daisies lie in front of her waiting to be plaited

a delicate crown for her long, black hair.

Her green, sparkling eyes watch the horizon

listening to the voices whispering

"O Res Mirabilis! Panis Angelicus!"

As she gazed with a rapture

Stunning hazey green meadows

Orange-pink clouds circling them like

a necklace of sunset

She sits.........waits......silent with Awe

Soon she will jump from the hill

and, flying, will reach out and touch

All Creation.

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Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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Angelicus’s Poems (4)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Out of the Box and Up to the Stars 0
Family Treasure 0
Bittersweet 0
An Angel Who Waits 0