Lesser angels of a lesser order
Sojourn for a time as
Petal, sepal, and stamen
Impeccably consecrated in color.
My heart, though, has no place
There among angels with their
Unblemished purity, forever unattainable by
Fallible flesh with its earthy wants and needs.
No, my heart draws to
Mud, mulch and manure;
Home among broken stems,
Ravenous weevils, and fallen petals.
We know a satisfaction,
A joy, and even a happiness
Of which angels know nothing.
Sometimes we are better than we were.
