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from November Angels by Jane Hirshfield

Posted on Nov 22, 2011 by

Blossoms Falling
A single, cold blossom
tumbles, fledged
from the sky’s white branch.
And the angels
look on,
observing what falls:
all of it falls . . .
Angels as observers.
The afternoon
lengthens, steepens,
flares out—
no matter for them.
It is assenting
that makes them angels,
neither increased
nor decreased
by the clamorous heart:
their only work
to shine back,
however the passing brightness
hurts their eyes.
Angels watching.  Saying yes.  Shining back.
It is assenting

that makes them angels

The full text of November Angels used to be available at the Poetry Foundation, but, alas, is no longer.

The photo is of a print, Blossoms Falling, by Masha Schweitzer at the Los Angeles Printmaking site.