Young bucks and does in a herd of mule deer on a beautiful late spring afternoon.
(Photo from iStock (royalty free)

The angels melt into existence from the dark of the trees, quietly grazing on grass and leaves.
They move (wingless) on silent feet, as light as feathers in the gloom of eve.
The angels of the wood look at me with the darkest of eyes. Spiritually prancing in the light of the moon . . .from a star-filled endless sky…
One crowned with antlers, standing a head above all, whispers a blessing to me . . .
With raised hands, I thank the blessed Holy Trinity!
In awe of the angels power–I behold their amazing grace.
They melt back into the wood, leaving silence in their place,
Following a trail only they can see, again, I thank the heavens for the peace they leave with me . . .