Hello PoetryVoting

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy WritingNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy WritingNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

The Angels

by richard-riddle

from June, 2016 An hour before sunrise, not long before going home- It's still, no breeze, this Sunday morn- silent......... serene- As I step into the woods I know they're watching, those denizens of the forest- Raccoon, possum, birds, etc. I purse my lips emit a soft whistle- No reply Another....no reply A few more steps......then.. the soft 'coo' of the Mourning Dove- "How gentle it is", comforting... in it's greeting A raccoon appears in front of me, the 'sentry' for the others, who are still hiding In the underbrush, and in the trees. They are "The Angels", "You are safe with us", his eyes tell me- It is then I know, it's going to be..... a "good day." r. riddle 06-26-2016
Request permission to use this poem
Written by
richard-riddle
American
For You?
Written by
richard-riddle
American
Published
Feb 12, 2017
Time
2m
Permission

Request to use this poem

Tell richard-riddle how you would like to use it. We review requests before forwarding them.

AboutBlogFAQPrivacyTermsContact
© 2009-2026 Hello Poetry/v27.0 by @eliotyork
Explore
Hello PoetryVoting
Write