In years of conflict aircraft flew
higher than the angels,
bright ranks of planes
surging above seabirds,
circling clouds in halos
as they guarded friendly ships,
straining weather-eyes
for steel leviathans.
Rising in their black bulk
out from depths,
scanning seas for sight of Lucifer,
their dark and evil adversary,
searching for his prey;
their drone of engines.
The comfort of celestial song
being sung in heaven
as they veer down,
spotting some survivors
upon a boat within the waves.
In that act of mercy,
grey pinions are transformed
into gold wings that mark them
as messengers of God.