Angels In The Air

i come from the swing set
of the summer night
my dad and I talked about angels.

every push sending me

higher

until my toes topped
the trees,
only the setting sky
above me,

believing

angels
behind me.

angels in my dad’s hands.
angels pressing on my back,
angels in the air.
angels behind everyone.

all we had to do
was believe in them
and they’d

lift

you

until it was just you,
hands curled around the ropes of the swing,
and

let

you

rest on them
in the

air

so you could be
an angel too
placed in the sky,
above the trees,

but not too far

from the swing set
and the one

pushing you.