Now come the whispers bearing bouquets of moonbeams and sunlight tremblings.
Such are these places where lovers of bliss behold the angel of peace
Varieties of angels, like varieties of love, are many.
With its leaves so rich and heavy with elation and its crimson face made brighter with visions of divinity the shadow of a certain rose looks just like an angel eating light.
Where humanity sowed faith, hope, and unity, joy’s garden blossomed.
Un-winged and naked, sorrow surrenders its crown to a throne called grace.
September 11, 2001: Citizens of the U.S., besieged by terror’s sting, rose up, weeping glory, as if on eagles’ wings.--from the poem Angel of Remembrance: Candles for September 11, 2001