If I had an angel
I would show him a rainy evening in the park. I would show him the double-light of the puddles reflecting whatever glimpsed overhead.
I would show him the droplets of rain, swell and shine, until, too heavy, they drop.
I would show him the deer sheltering under the trees, soggy and sodden.
I would point to the fleeting silhouette of the bat, racing in stacatto flight, sightlessly, artfully catching its meal.
I would get him to listen to the muffled sounds of leaves, jostling in the light breeze; and hear the bellow, deep and throaty, of the stags – one to another, boundarying the park.
And the birds, hear them too – strain for call and song, so quiet are they at this dusky moment.
I would tell him to smell the freshness – the day’s warmth and grime sluiced away. And smell the ripening fruit and mashing foot-fall leaves, sweet and full and mellow.
If I had an angel.
(Inspired by Rilke and his Ninth Duino Elegy ‘Praise this world to the angel’ )