someday at the speed of wishing may we find
in deep midwinters' dreamless clime
the bouquets at the door. out-blooming time;
so fresh, with dew fall
falling all around, the dear annointed
heaven flushed petals of a froward spring or else
a soothing wind before the desert sun has even
cracked open the blinds of the day
will stay our weariness, ever-after...
or even after,
the speed of sinking.
and to those blown into the sea
to those blown into the sea we loved
or thought we did-
the rescue boats arriving before they break:
the opal surface of ill waters
mary angela douglas 11 november 2013
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