There were three of them
Animal like in the half light
Three angels crouching under the bent buttressed shadow of wall
Behind the railings and steps
flanked by figures carved in stone
I found them hiding behind the church
all glowing in the gathering dusk
Fallen perhaps? Certainly quiet
And with the muted look
of things not expecting to be seen
The air was winter wet
And there I was crouching
with them in this hidden garden
The descending swell of fog
brought a hush over everything
And I thought one turned and
tilted its head towards a question
Out of this mutual gaze
came forth a sort of prayer
Surprising perhaps that this 'yes'
This listening to the heart
Should be ushered in not by
the dazzling presence of a Gabriel
But by one fallen from its perch
Where might angels appear
in the places where we fear to tread?
Which cold walls might we dare
to venture behind this advent
to find the hidden light?
What is waiting for us to speak
within the unexpected
corners of our dreams?