where angels tread

let misty evening be my shroud
soft tendrils drifting cool and dim
where only angels are allowed

where mourning trees stand ever proud
a nightjar’s song the only hymn
let misty evening be my shroud

unearthly treasures are endowed
to those who tread this pathway grim
where only angels are allowed

go softly where the bluebells crowd
lit azure by day’s dying rim
let misty evening be my shroud

falter not though head is bowed
to find this place as senses dim
where only angels are allowed

yet hearts are singing strong and loud
such is the world of cherabim
let misty evening be my shroud
where only angels are allowed

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(the form of this poem is a villanelle)