Day 14 of Art Every Day Month.  Hanging in there!  Barely!

The Angels
are not like the Saints.

They do not discriminate
but come to everyone.
Their eyes burn green fire
but their kisses are icy.

They can play rough when we get caught
in the heavy crosswinds that swirl about their wings.

They are not above artifice
and sometimes appear in disguise:

a mask of smeared lipstick, gypsey

bangles, or an old man’s coat.

Now and again they carelessly give us gifts;
an unexpected hobbyhorse, a day’s free babysitting,

a poke in the eye with a sticks,
or sudden slant of light on water.

And we are grateful, once we figure out how
to move within their state of complex blessings.

They work within great wheels and circles,
turning light to dark and back again.

They do not obey the laws of gravity
but laugh a lot and arise at will

to hover like vast hummingbirds
when we require attention.

What they want of us is the mysterious secret
we unravel and reweave

down to dark and back again.

Judith Roche