Calendar

[to Sharon]

pulling the taffy sun from a Saturday sky,

did we dream of lemonade springs, the blue bird's wing,

the usual things-

or did we cry?

wasting what was given of the

sprinklering green grass

and raspberry sherbet skies.

oh let us wish, confetti-flecked, for one

lost Christmas back, stowed in the melting attic

at our back and rush

to the side-door entrance

and the kitchen with the appled, appliqued

linen calendar towel:

the chocolate cake just frosted

mary angela douglas 31 august 2013