One Christmas I gave a snow globe with an angel inside to my niece. The poem came to me in the early morning hours before I gave her the gift. I turned the key, the music began, the snow swirled, the angel disappeared, and then reappeared as the music slowed. Angels are like that.
Enclosed within a crystal globe
An angel in a burgundy, gold-trimmed gown
Stands in peaceful silence, wings outstretched.
A vigorous shake
A few turns of the key
And a symphony of swirling snow begins.
A prediction of life.
The storm grows in intensity,
A crescendo of white
Obscuring the angel within.
Still, troubled souls peering in
From the cold outside world
Feel the angel’s peace
As with grace she offers an interlude of serenity.
The music slows to largo
The snowflakes diminish, settling downward.
The angel reappears
And more gently now
© Barbara Flass 2006