Tired Angels

Tired Angels He was a lucky man by his side angels walked or perhaps flittered a little jostling as they all wanted to be near him. Absentminded, he came near the fiord walked across. He was out cashing crabs that clung to the sheer cliff wall, yes, and a plastic bucket. He got five crabs and walked back the same way the angels sweated he had trusted (unknowingly) their blind faith in him, to the point when some of them were at a point of giving up. Looking after this person is hard. One angle sighed; the others mumbled in tacit agreement. The angels watched him boil the crabs and eat everything, not offering them anything; how could he? We should have let go, one angel said, let him splash about with his bucket. The thought of this made every angle laugh; one took out a harp and beautiful music-filled sea and land with everlasting peace and the satisfaction of a job well done,