In the thick of the wood

Where dark triumphs over light

Where the arms of the trees reach to the tops of the sky

Where peaks of the sun sparkle through

And light some grass gold with its warm ethereal rays

I see angles

In the fields of the country

Where grass grows high

And white houses dot the plains

Where men bent over in the swaying gold wheat

Where the sweat that rolls off them is nothing but offerings

To the harvest

And were children hide in the rows of cornstalks

I see angles

In snow-laden land

Where mountains stand rigid

And cast their mighty shadows upon its un-superior friends

Where pine trees extend to stab a passerby

And artic animals dash unseen in the winter wonderland

I see angles

In the dry desert land

Where there is no trees and no water

Where everyday is summer, never spring, never winter

Where bare feet kids are covered in dust

And babies bellies jut out

Where children’s eyes are filled with nothing but tears

Where they stretch out their hands with empty bowls

Yet they still walk

I see angles guiding them on