the morning rain drops speak with each other
in quiet voices like tiny children
cloud homes and the
horses talk to each other, waiting silently for
the gates to open,
to run at last,
to the far away fields and hills
with little purple flowers.
moths and lacey, tiny flittering baby butterflies.....go about
here and there,
gathering up all the unseen thoughts and dreams of
their other land, far away, far from here
in another place.
angels, small angels are in the mist of shadows and light,
watching over us, quietly, with their gentle wings so soft and gentle
fluttering so quietly, we do not hear them,
unless we suddenly realize they are there
and are real.