Hospitality

"Make friends with the angels,

who though invisible are always with you."

—St. Francis de Sales

Mere acquaintances, they linger –where I've left them–at the outside corner

of my eye, or far beyondthe padlocked front door I haven't opened

in decades. The organic green tea iscold, the Mother Hubbard cupboards

bare, nothing much in my widow's mansionto share, except perhaps some mite-sized memory

of faith I've swept onto the back porchwhere dust bunnies whirl in praise

of the glorious unseen. And whosoever                    shall not receive you… shake off                              the dust of your feet. Oh, dear wonders

of long-suffering, friends of the wingless,though the dark day is over,

and the darker night upon me,even now, I fling wide the back door.          Return!          Return!