An angel wearing tender petals and shoes of drifting leaves,

With toes of pinkest sunsets in an afternoon’s cool breeze,

Lying back within the softness of a pillowed passing cloud,

Soaking in the all the beauty that distant Gods allowed.

Emeralds cut in perfect squares rained down upon the lawn,

Which caused the budding flowers to bloom before the dawn,

Roses came up behind her ears and tulips by her eyes,

But the glory of the lilacs took the angel by surprise.

Fresh aglow this pure delight doubled up by heaven’s gate,

A joy shone so divinely even hell’s own angels did relate,

It begged the question how this golden glory could oft be missed,

By the bustling, bumping humans in their search for earthly bliss.