farmers got a gun
everybody neighbours run
everybody runs
except trusting angels;
a troop of angels shoot in the snow
left are white snow angel's shapes
left as silhouette shadows are snow angels
where their angel bodies dissolved;
where they falling hit fallen snow
angels blessings from heaven
iced out in a farmer's field below
a farmer shoot visiting angels;
like a flock of visiting geese
because they were on his property
but why were they on his property
to bestow seasonal blessings;
blessings from heaven
ever notice how some people
shoot their blessings
shot all to hell;
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem