An oddly auspicious confluence of events-
three padlocks on the road,
a black cat crossing my path,

three large black crows,
flying,
leading me all the way to our door,
an owl
peering from the ledge into the bedroom window,
backlit by the waning gibbous moon.

An intimate conversation
at the bar. She a sweet acquaintance,
shyly telling me of the healer
that drew the demon snake from her breast.
He held it out for her to see,
a glimpse of the shadow of a serpent,
drifting into dust motes swirling out the open window
into the moonless night.

The angel leaning on the lamppost
in a good friend’s poem
From writings of another poet,
a triad of angels watching from a hayloft.

Signs and wonders,
the rending of fabric,
the anticipation of a visit,
the expectation
of another
conversation with the angel,
the sound of wings,
an acclamation of doves,
a rapture.