Holy Angels

They stir the breeze
and rustle the trees
and fly atop the hill. 
They brush past leaves
and rest upon eaves --
ambassadors of good will. 
A thimbleful of thought,
for them --
a planetful, for us. 
Love's choirs triumphant,
good geniuses near --
lasers beaming through muck and muss.

St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle.