Angelic

Keeping faithful watch for angels, I have become one. But my wings are folded. Sometimes a breeze lifts a few feathers. Some loosen and float into blue air. The rest press tighter against my body. I cannot release them, no matter what image of flight crosses my mind. I wait under October's leafless trees to hear the awful beating of my guardian's huge wings. Only then will I see my other face, radiant and calm. Only then will I be able to spread my prisoned wings, rise in silent imitation and know the angel's endless flight.