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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Conversation with an Angel I live in an average neighborhood, in Colorado Springs. I like to refer to my street as the ‘all American street’. Most of the homes in my neighborhood were built between the 1890’s and early 1930’s. Our yards are reflective of our personalities, so I believe. An eclectic mosaic of manicured and not so manicured lawns, xeriscaped, not so xeriscaped yards fill the view as one drives down the road. We still say hello as we pass by, and many walk our dogs or just enjoy the company of a loved one for an evening stroll. With Pike’s Peak as our back drop I think most of us feel blessed to call our neighborhood home. One night while out walking about an hour before dusk, I noticed something not quite right. A little out of place if you will; between the road and the sidewalk is a section of yard for each home, about 10 feet from sidewalk to curb, with Elms and Oak trees agelessly garnishing the street, I happened to notice a man about two blocks ahead, bent down ‘doing something’ quite contently. Nothing out of the ordinary, I guess I was just fixed on the length of time he was bent down. As I approached, I imagined what he was doing, “an injured pet maybe or damaged sprinkler head”. As I came closer I noticed he’d look up in my direction, and back down again. I had a sense that whatever it was he was doing; he wanted to be done before I arrived. I picked up my pace, more curious than worried. Finally, as I crossed the next street; he was within ears shot of a quick “hello”. He looked up and nodded back, then down again at whatever he was doing. I could make out his features and knew he was ‘not from around these parts’. It was summertime, and his appearance was quite disheveled. His face was unshaven, not a beard, but a few days growth, wrinkled and tanned as if he’d been homeless for a while. His hair was tousled, bleached from the sun with wisps of gray. I found it odd, that he had on a long tan rain coat, blue jeans and sandals with no shirt underneath.
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