Night Angel

On a granite parapet
Where the river is headlong below
Carried away the water, penalty,
Angel in a velvet beret
Tired of heavenly affairs,
I sat down to rest for a while.

Under the parchment skin
No blood, no heat ...
As if he was carved too
Granite and glass.
Blissful gaze in the twilight
Unwisely prophesied ...
To know the signs sent
What the Angel of the Night has told!
From the sleepy tree crowns
The bright side of the moon hung.
The light floated. And the glint of feathers
A river wave slid into the shadows.

(poetry author Irina Brakman)