Poem 3  (PD 20)

The Last Angel I Noticed

wasn't up in the sky or on someone's shoulder.

No.

The other warm afternoon, an angel was alive

in the soft music from a neighbor's house

that came drifting through an open window, into my heart.

and while I walked in our house, from room to room,

looking, just looking, a stranger's company came to me, 

beautiful, understandable,

light and on the wind.

There it is, don't you think?

Music is an angel's dream

happening yesterday, today, or sometime soon.

Wait and wait.

It will come.

From: Coming Back to the World, by Lisa Ann Berg

Laurel Poetry Collective, St. Paul, MN, 2005