The Man Who Built a House for Angels

Selecting stones with a long-practiced eye
from the quarry up behind his home,
cutting with care, so that each would lie
flush in the walls, and grinding them till smooth
as riverstones, and each as white as light.
The future tenants watched him while he worked,
jostling and curious, (more of them at night
while he rested) shuffling their wings
around him, though he made no sign that he
acknowledged them, but carried on with his
business of building till the house should be
complete.