Angel Of THe Morning (Poetry)

His shadow like a pointer fell
across the sunlit lawn
the moment held its shallow breath
for hours yet unborn

He moved his hand — a blackbird sang
as though it knew the time
and measured every perfect note
to fit the day’s clear chime

The garden woke from night’s cool spell
his finger touched upon
each leaf and flower — angel-light
then in a blink he’d gone

Vanished into Heaven’s blue
the air left fresh and clean
a footprint faint on dew-damp grass
small proof that he had been