Some Angels | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Some Angels | Previous Challenge Entry
By Ann Stocking
06/11/15
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Clouds like ships were a-sailing,
Aspen leaves were aquiver,
Pine-fragranced breezes were blowing,
Tickling the face of the river.
Serenaded by a chorus of blackbirds,
A choir in the willowy brush,
Moving the cows to high meadows
Where pastures grow deeper and lush.

We had gone just two easy miles,
Enjoying the vistas and views,
When a she-bear, disturbed in her bower,
Thinking we came to abuse,
Growled and grumbled a warning,
In defense of her cubs, out of sight,
Hackles a-bristling in challenge,
Her vast paws positioned to smite.

Blue, our trusty, old collie
Flew at the beast like a shot,
Harrying and hounding that she-bear,
A moment both tensive and taut.
Such bravery; he tackled the creature,
Ten times his size, even more,
Chasing her back to the timber,
Her feelings just tender and sore.

Some angels have fur.

A quick-running creek we were crossing,
Banks sloping miry and steep.
My horse scrambled fiercely for footing,
But tumbled us both in a heap.
My leg was trapped under his belly,
Pressing me ‘neath his great weight.
Mac heaved; George hauled on his bridle.
I was freed from a bone-crushing fate.

Some angels wear spurs.

I roped down a calf that looked poorly,
And dismounted into the sage,
To doctor the small, sickly baby,
But his mama was wild-eyed with rage.
My horse bounded into her pathway,
Blocked her protective stampede,
Swerving and weaving and jiving,
Till that cow was forced to recede.

Some angels eat hay.

At the end of my long, dusty journey,
I jogged home, dog-tired and worn.
My love was waiting and waving,
In the place I’d left her that morn.
Breath sweet as honey, she whispered,
“I asked God to keep you from harm.”
A quick, skyward nod of thanksgiving,
And I held my love close in my arms.

Some angels pray.

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