We saw and heard  angels from on high calling to those still here working in the fields. As soon as we saw them, they all turned red — like yesterday’s dawns, last-night’s bonfires — or they simply reflected their own uncertain flames rekindled and re-stoked for journeying, within. Later, we found scarce crystal-seeds scattered everywhere — mixed with bits of old lace, lichen — lavender buds, a few fallen feathers here and there — angel-mulch left to serve — fertile ground for growth.

. . . . .

Susan Powers Bourne
Easter | 16 apr 2017