On Bernal hilltop looking up a strong wind hits my face but only a hint of cold.
Fog rolls in big clumps passes towards the horizon and then… downing sun lights up the sky highlights the tiniest finger of gathered air. It gathers there. And then…a tendril of wispy cloud sails right towards me longer it grows longer longer still right o’er my head.
I felt like it could touch me. Awe I am…and then… touched am I by the feathered wing of an angel.