Under the Tutelage of Angels:

 
A cool rambling wind 
waits helplessly at the edge 
of Winter’s last breath 
The birds of a scarlet dawn
flee the burning of the sun
 
The shadows notice
the light that aches under doors 
The mystical code 
of God and ghosts have measured 
the names of countless voices
 
The longing for your
love nestled in heavenly
strength and happiness
grows wilder than most will know
Nonetheless, it is resting
 
©️Winter Dawn Burns