Dorothy Slept In The Emerald Eye Of Cyclones

Dorothy slept in the emerald eye of cyclones

hearing the sound of running water, running footsteps;

away from these gold fields, she cried!

to her surprise already

missing home, and that amazed by trees

shedding emerald leaves

along the boulevards of dreams and

feeling a little small among the figurines,

the lemon drop candy dished breakables.

Dorothy, at once! in a green dress, once ice blue-

remained herself, predictable as storms

finding the irregular beautiful; on the doorstep of

many houses peering in

to admire so rainbow-boxed!

the blooms of near neighbors 

next door to a dream and

violet, swirled as carnival glass, country, contrary-wise.

deep in His iridescence, not to be swept away.

I haven't come to stay she said firmly.

waking up in the afternoon

to ham biscuits, farmhouse coffee

2/3 cream.

to her own room

with the bluebird wallpaper.

mary angela douglas 2 january 2014;rev. august 20, 2014