The songs of angels

Hello first Sunday ~

first rain

on the attic window

weaving and twisting,

across the field of hope.

These,

my morning glories

that are always ~

a part of my life.

So

here we go again

walking through the world

into a brand new year.

All around

in the houses

that surround us ~

cats sleeping

people laughing

or singing hymns of praise.

Sunday roasts

cooking  in ovens of love

while people laze

and newspapers fall

silently,

onto the waiting floors.

All  the while,

the waiting bare branches

lap up the stormy raindrops.

I hold my pen in the air

watching  for

the words to bleed

onto the page

while listening

to the

glossy voice,

of the rain.

It is

( I imagine )

the

songs

of

angels