Zachary and the Angel.(Poem)

 
ZACHARY AND THE ANGEL 
 
   When Zachary came to stay and 
   smashed the terracotta angel on a stone and 
   ran and hid, being only three, 
   my grandmother opened her eyes again 
   and smiled and drew me back through years of sun 
   as though to brush my hair, outside on the lawn. 
   Zachary pressed, breath held, against a wall, 
   his "What if?." gone to pieces--hands 
   and wings strewn under the birdbath 
   cupped to heaven were evidence and warning 
   "So" would soon descend. 
 
   My grandmother set the hairbrush on the grass, 
   "Don't get in such a tizz!" 
   patiently teasing out a knot 
   as my heart went yes no yes 
   (I'd broken a second-best plate) 
   in time with small wild Zachary poised for flight, 
   his face like sunlight blotted out. 
   "Off you go and ...