I bring  you gifts from the angels, chased into hiding by greed and argument and anger and emptiness, but  still waiting, watching. I bring you baskets of love and forgiveness, candles to light the creative spark, the softest beds in which to make love, every morning,

before you wake up, and even think of working,

when the crickets and the frogs sleep and the birds begin to sing,

I bring you open hearts full of listening and sweet words of appreciation,

And gentle words that brush against your sweet soul.

I bring you the flower that opens its heart, like yours,

and gives to the world all of its color, and beauty.

I bring you the encouragement of the light,

the songs and poems of the angels,

singing their aching ballads on the other side of the world.

Otherwise,

we will all remain too frightened,

to even live.