truants
In Sunday school, we always learned
The angels never lived on Earth.
Their cheeks to sunlight never turned,
For theirs was a celestial birth.
I wondered if they missed the land
They’d never felt under their feet,
Or dreamt of sifting sun dried sand,
Or touching tips of tawny wheat.
But summers when I walk the shore,
Look back at footprints weaving home,
I note how high the seagulls soar
And know we’re within Heaven’s dome.
Their wings may keep the tracks at bay,
But angels have walked here today.
illustration © April Palleria,
2001
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written works © April Palleria, 2002