The Angel on Next Door's Drive

Coming home after twelve

on a still and starless night

I saw an angel,

reclining in a tumble of white satin

on next door’s drive.

I blinked, and looked again.

This is not what you expect
on the night of a rainy Friday
here in grey and safe mid-Wales.

And there was, after all, no angel -

though what was there

was almost as wonderful.

A white peacock,

astray from the gardens up on the hill,

shook his crown,

rearranged his tail feathers,

and strutted away down our street,

all in complete silence.

And I went indoors,

to reflect later that if there really had been an angel

he might well have had a message to give,

and maybe things for me to do.

                                   Peacocks, I think, are probably safer.