27 Angels

A Quintain poem (Believe in all things visible and invisible)

27 Angels

Axmen lost count as lumber fell

To the valley where spirits dwell

Shivering for the sake of Winter

Rising to the occasion of the day

Snow attracts falling temperatures

Attention of the forest dwellers focus

27 angels sighted as a wisp of silence

Strands of heaven swirling randomly

Numbered by onlookers who could only wonder

Beauty aligned with nature on the mountain side

Winter keeps a promise for warm company

Covers perfect mounds of earth with cold

Perfect white ice with shadowed angel light

Down to the fabric of their magic souls

Fading into dim memory when day is done

Church bells sound out lost causes

Listen for something akin to mystery

Invisible to the touch

Spirits never melt on mountain tops

Strands of heaven swirling randomly

They number themselves as sacred

Angels have no names to begin with

As snow flakes coming down from heaven

Ageless as God Himself with good intentions

27 of them landing at a time at last count

Author's Note

A Quintain poem - (There is more than simple snow falling on mountain tops and valley floors according to our sources.)