I was in a spiritual frame of mind this morning, spirits of the dead had just departed, leaving their messages for me, and were riding in on this powerful beam of light, they were talking to me. Sometimes i am not in a spiritual frame of mind, I am, like Fate, distractable. But this morning, we came out into the pasture, and the light just exploded suddenly over the hills and lit up my world. It was not in the place where the sun usually rises, that is clear from all of my photos. I thought my camera might melt.

And the light was so beautiful and powerful, it seemed the world had come to a stop. Fate froze, the sheep stood with their heads lowered, the donkeys rushed to the barn, the pony seemed frozen in place.

Fate was mesmerized by the light, we both caught the almost supernatural  glow of the birdbath, filled with water from the storm last night.  It was brighter than I have ever seen it, it seemed to be on fire. So it was an angel, I thought, who came to dance in the birdbath, to twirl in the sunlight, to let loose a fireball of light and color over the farm. Perhaps she painted with the pencils and sketchbook she always carries. And thus made it real, perhaps I was looking at a canvas of my life, not my life itself.

You cannot photograph an angel, but you can photograph their light, I have learned this the hard way.

The angel came from the moon, I think, or maybe she slept on one of those giant storm clouds. Perhaps she was a tour guide angel bringing these ghosts from my past down to the farm, showing them the way, making sure they got back when the sun rose and the frost melted away and the sky turned pale and cloudy.  The dead can visit,I think, but they can never stay.

Fate froze in place, uncertain and I saw the angel – my angel, I think –  twirling, like an Olympic skater. She was small, ordinary looking, not glamorous or trim, there were no wings, she was  singing to me, “you see, you see, the joy of existence. The heart is right to cry even when the smallest drop of light is taken away, whenever love dies.”

I see, I see, I tried to shout back, I’ve cried plenty for lost light and love, I’m done with that,  but my throat was weak, my voice stillborn in my throat. And then, of course, she was gone. Fate moved, the sheep ran to the feeder, time caught it’s breath. My world returned.