Softly, Before Summer

[a poem I wrote 43 years ago]

softly, before summer,

in nets of gold

the water meshes with the sun,

mauve past the end of the stream.

we are the song past the end of our world.

the sun is bleeding

and we are here, also, aging in

the drone of slow thoughts,

in this light.

a small child flings her silk

silhouette

and stones

against the water,

and it flames

mauve, past the end of the stream.

we are this fire past the end of our world.

brief is dreaming before we find,

I know you by not knowing,

sensing only, still believing, ripples

of breathing and being, faces brooding,

merging shadows thrown by the sun

is gone, splashed into vermillion,

vanished, we cannot know.

I know You by not knowing,

the last music pales,

the last thought in the darkening

spring.

mary angela douglas 7 may 1970