The Angels' Dance Poem by Mary Campbell

Do not fear the wild wind; what you hear
is the dance of angels as they celebrate in song
your spirit's native purity. On a common surge of joy,
they whirl from mountaintop to moon, their wings
and feet like whitecaps on the sea, racing to a windy
beach. With playful dignity they execute an elegant
gavotte and follow with a quick bourrée… and then
they're off to Jupiter, or skimming past a score
of galaxies, wherever leads their whimsy.
In the morning they will dance and sing again —
at sunrise, more subdued than when they vaulted
light years on a single moment's impetus, through
fantasies of rings and spirals with the ease of feathers
tumbling on the night breeze… but the message,
intimately whispered, blithely sung, or trumpeted
on adamantine instruments, is ever yet the same:
You are why goldenrods arise in glorious profusion
on the plains in summer. You are the reason for
the unexpected hummingbird and for the meadowlark's
sweet silver chorus. You are Heaven's precious child.
If your fearful mind forgets how tender is your refuge
and eternal your protection, let your heart recall
our gleeful moonlit pirouettes and, resting in
the certainty that Life adores you, be at peace.