The sun had disappeared
Leaving clouds to hold in their hands
the last fragments of light
like a bouquet putting forth one last fragrant bloom
And I descended the trail
So many descents these last months
they didn’t leave me feeling home, those descents
A nudging whisp brushed my shoulder
So I turned
And there they stood
I started to count,
‘1, 2, 3-4-5, numbers fading into the many before me.’
They stretched effortlessly upward
the very tips of their needly heads
carrying a prayer for me.
They had my back
They had my future.
Wordlessly I leaned into them
With a nod they let their garments fall away.
All of them.
Like they had planned the surprise for this moment.
each was an angel.