Earthly Angels

    A large, golden plain lies beneath me.  Homesteads and green fields dot its surface.  A dirt road runs from east to west across it.  A small town, the only one visible from my extreme height, is built along the road.
    Gliding downward silently, I land on the roof of one of the buildings in town.  No one on the road below notices my arrival.  I stand there, wings outstretched, watching the people walking on the road below and the loud, black soldiers on the building across the road from me.
    I slowly fold my regal wings becoming inconspicuous.  Now I draw even less attention to myself, especially from from the ugly, dark soldiers.  One of them looks my direction and spots me in spite of my efforts.  He then alerts his platoon of my presence in a loud croaking voice.  They all turn to face me and draw their black weapons waiting to attack.  They are not afraid of me.  I am only one; they are ten.  I stand perfectly still, weapon yet undrawn, but ready.  Abruptly, the whole troop, with their black, battered wings, rush across the road with a fierce, croaking battle cry.  Some people glance up casually, but don’t pay attention to the dark warriors.
    Before they reach me, I turn, and with a mighty leap, leave the rooftop leading the fiendish troop far from the town.  As I fly away, three others of my company glide into town, waiting for the appropriate moment to claim it.  Before I fly too far from the town, I swerve back through the dark squad’s ranks.  They scatter, wings fluttering in surprise and do not harm me.  Before they can regroup, I hasten back to the town letting out a shrill trumpet call.
    When I get there, I notice that our number has grown from four to ten.  The people on the road still do not notice us.  Each one of our warriors is standing guard on a different rooftop.  The town is now ours.
    Regardless, I stand alert, watching the direction I had come from, ready to leap on the black soldiers if they decide to come back.  I can see them in the distance, forming makeshift ranks to rush with a flurry of black wings towards the town.  Sounding another trumpet call, two of my companions and I surge towards the on-coming troop of evil soldiers.
    A furious battle now unfolds.  Black and golden weapons flash in the sunlight; wings blur as their owners add speed.  The evil troop, expecting a frontal assault, fortifies their front line.  Unexpectedly, two more of my companions dive at them from above, throwing them into confusion.  We leave the site of the battle unscathed and knowing we have complete control over the town.  The town is ours!
    We return to the town and take our positions.  We stand there, completely silent, watching the town with piercing golden eyes.  As hawks we do not share our perches with anyone, especially crows.

The Treasure

As I stare out the window, my mind begins to wander.  I start thinking about things most people only dream about.  I think of faraway lands and of titanic clashes of battle where heroes guide their people to victory.  I see warriors in glittering armor fighting hand to hand with weapons as white as fire because of the wrath of those wielding them.  I see tombs of great kings of old lying strewn upon a plain.
    I see a great castle with brilliant banners hanging from the windows and an impassible iron and wooden gate blocking the entrance.  I see a small, dirty town sitting before the castle.  The children on the streets are smiling as they chase each other around.  Their parents look on with a smile on their tired faces as they continue their work.
    As my mind loses itself completely in the world, I begin to hear things.  The children in the streets are screaming gleefully as they continue their game.  The wheels of carts and the grunts of workers resound through the town.  Near at hand there is a blacksmith hammering a piece of white hot metal into a useful tool.
    My mind focuses on a small, brown hut sitting on the edge of town.  Its thatched roof and stick door give it a poor appearance, but it holds the most important treasure of the entire kingdom.  In the hut I hear the most amazing noise I have ever heard.  I hear a woman crying and children laughing, but the most amazing sound I hear is the sound that a treasure makes once it has been forged.  This sound brings peals of laughter from some, and cries of pain from others.
    I now stand at the door and push myself to walk into the ramshackle hut from where this glorious sound originates.  I push open the creaking door and the miraculous sound intensifies.  My leather boots thud on the packed dirt floor.
    I follow the great sound through the strangely vacant rundown shack into a room in the back.  There I finally lay eyes on the treasure unequalled by any in the world.  I fall to my knees observing the miraculous scene before me.
    “My God,” I pray silently, “thank you for this miracle.”
    I quietly stand and walk over to the noisy treasure.  I reach down to pick it up, but pause to think if it would be harmful.  I pull my hands back to my sides and stare at the miracle before me.
    As I turn to leave, the amazing sound stops quite suddenly.  Alarmed, I spin around willing to defend the treasure with my life.  It stares at me with its large eyes pleading for me to stay.  As I look into those large, hazel brown eyes, I become a victim of their spell.
    I take one step towards it and raise it in my arms.  I lean it on my shoulder and feel its warm breath on my neck.  I move my head and kiss it thinking that there cannot be any treasure greater than this: a newborn child coming to life in this world of sorrow.