THE ANGELS of the morning sunrise kiss each roof as they pass through.
Every house is blessed with their bright gold presence, every bird's head and the scruff of their neck, is kissed.
With ease and grace, they sweep each country in turn - with gossamer residue beading the grasses, the flowers and the trees. With caring and blessing, in greeting, they are.
What is this dew? And whyfor the romance? It comes from that close travail, where those Angels of the morning have touched us all, descending and heralding all that is new and is bold.
Angels are not automata - do not get confused. They can have strength and they have attitude; and knowingly also, their purpose lives within them. They just do not recognize our 'choices' as being choice at all.
With clarity and heart there are few actual choices outside what is needed- and as for creativity, no time at all for those who work to maintain what is already in existence and improving its form.