Deceptively Pedestrian

My walk home from church was unexceptional; aside
from the fact that I can walk and the street-
side tress cannot; and aside
from the fact that the sky
opened for a time and showed
me the divine eye: and aside
from the fact that the wind
whispered my name and the
horizon smiled at me; and aside
from the fact that the blessed
dead watched my every step,
counting each one and writing
them in ‘The Book of Strides’; and aside
from the fact that I remember angels
rambled round King Street, dressed
incognito – although their wings
left tufts of down under
this tree and round that bush.

My walk home from church was
deceptively pedestrian.

Under Observation

The sky summons forth a cloud and
a watery angel – with fellows in tow – strides
across the sky purposely: ministering servants all.
This host (often portrayed as arrayed in white despite
their Prussian blue hues) shocks me.
Azure heaven meets verdant earth
in a horizon of promise.
I look up, and see
these angels
seeing me
thoroughly
through