When Angels call

Wrapping my self in clouds

Happy clouds ~

from where the angels call.

Days slipping into night,

some filled with glistening snowflakes

and then ,

baby powder blue skies.

In my hands a string of pearls lie silent.

I touch the beads, one by one

each a memory of a place,

a time.

In each heart ( I think )

lies a secret,

hidden garden

where,

among the creased corners we call life

lie lovely things.

I go there ~

every day.

To listen when the Angels call.