Angels Danced
The empyreal rise of sun reflected in crimson glows on tips of gold and green leaves, and the edges of your hair as you drew your first breath. So sweet the sound of air exhaled, like a zephyr in the late days of august when leaves are turning over then pirouetting down in the gossamer breeze, gracefully towards the ground. I am sure the angels moved in the same ethereal tone on the day you were birthed. Oh how the years seemed to fly as if on wings of tepid breezes. Sometimes I wish we could see time, years like lines on trees and count our days. If one could trace the paths of life, see the roots like trees, they would know if they were grounded on the paths like limbs and know how far they would extend. I see myself like autumn's trees, less grounded, naked in the wake of your passing. I feel the blush of my flesh fade in less hue then the near colorless trees as they peer back at me. I hear the faint chimes fall like church bells through their shallow branches as they quiver from winter-like chills in the passing of seasons and the change it brings. I feel the cries from skies, as they fall from the corners of my own eyes in the chagrin of storms and its resemblance to death yet I know I do not cry alone.
somber are the skies
when you hear the angel's cries
through zephyr of wind
August 22, 2019
Angels Danced Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Lu Loo
* today august 22, happens to be my brother's heavenly birthday, tomorrow will mark 9 years since his passing, he passed at the age of 49 and 1 day, sadly!
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