Recognition

The point about angels

I can see more clearly now.

We have grown too old and postish

for a muscular bearded god

brandishing his thunderbolts

and yet have need

of some native intervention:

that is, of somebody

both buoyantly skyish

and a good deal like ourselves.

The wings don't matter at all

great fun though

their whoosh of snowy feathers might be;

it is a fluttery hint or showing

of kindly likeness that we want:

just for one moment to hear

a voice with the heavens resounding in it

saying, 'Yes, it is you.'

'Angeltime', Chris Wallace-Crabbe