when and if

You hear the song and you say it sounds like angels because it is so beautiful. Or it sounds like angels because it is so fearsome. But mostly you say it because it’s the sort of thing people say, when and if they say such things. The angel says rejoice and everyone runs away. There’s always some stone someone needs a hand with. There’s always some seal that’s just waiting for a shovel. The angel says your name like you’re already a volunteer.

Maybe you’re day dreaming about a sandwich, or tacos from that one truck. Maybe you don’t know you’re hungry until you’ve devoured something. Appetite reverse engineered from grease and wrapper, shine and paper and withheld sanctimony. It’s baby steps and basics, one foot in front of the other like Rudolph in that Rankin/Bass relic. How quick they get to strike the scenery. Look at the map and marvel at how far you’ve gone. Listen carefully while heaven sings along.

The change so strange from major to minor, another chestnut serving verse. There is a chill in the air and a blue to the sky, a train that rattles and wails on by. There are the scattered sparrows and the fervent squirrels, crows mostly seen in flight. Wave upon wave, the songs of birds, the songs of stars, the singing to the root and stone. Bones sear and breath breaks and the world grinds its gears. The angels sing your name aloud. Maybe you scream along.