ANGELS DON'T STUMBLE

Tell me in blue letters
	on a blue wall
	what Robert said to Elizabeth
	and where the Spring goes.

Let me know suddenly
	to look out on green rain
	and when to stop whispering
	to let the sky-eyed
	bluebells speak.

Angels don't stumble -
	don't lose their breath
	or scratch themselves to pick
	a rose.

Shake their wings until they tell -
	make them tell why
	red is red except if
	one is colorblind

Nothing here-try across the 
	street.

Nothing there.


		Lucille Hamilton