* Angel poems : Personal Poetry by an Archangel *

in the true light of the morning           a day begins       and the mist creeps in. The light of the stars has fallen and the grass rises up with the dew. In the birdsong and frogs chorus the night beckons and the moon gleams. An answer is always round the corner, and true meetings are here, fields and horses, bush and gully clouds and wind winners all. Daybreak comes around again.

  a rose    is everything                        to be, an ancient song of life                               and hope. An artist will paint. and a singer will sing             but a rose is a rose is a rose. None can change its nature                    but all will see it                                    differently. Ask but not less          of thyself            and thy weaknesses.