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The Angel's Gift

Angels dancing on a pin
Gather all our eyeballs in
And transfer feathers from the light
To our sprouting wings.

Not without a little sigh
I count their numbers passing by,
The echoes of their tiny feet
Expand and shake the roof.

The dark beyond the cellar door
Illuminates the gift they bear;
The dust upon the attic floor
Is brushed by what we wear.

Who can show their blushing face
In such a bright and shining place
Where angels nail our feet to clouds
And force the Hallelujah out?

What would happen if we grew
Free of what the angels do
Our wings the color of the night
Spread against the moon?

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Copyright 2010 B. de Corbin and Splendid Fish Studio