Bright As The Census Of His Golden Pears

bright as the census of His golden pears

about to glitter from the branch of moonlight

when all has been accounted for-

that bright the day could be.

or cherry deep in stories we've not

heard before, we'd wander and we'd wonder

why the colour red is so delicious

so that small girls dreaming Christmas dreams

imagine only cherry silk or velvet

trimmed with clouds

each lay me down to sleep

so bright the day that hasn't been yet

and the creek behind the house.

a casket of jewels, just found

the breaking apart of dewdrop hearts on

dawn spoked grass and ground

or on the vivid rose.

and clover perfumed

we would go, our baskets full

of pink cakes, fizzy drinks

and snow...

mary angela douglas 21 february 2014

Note on Poem:  There is a fairytale that begins with the King requiring, in turn, each of his sons to guard the pear (or the apple, or the plum, I can't remember which) orchard

because the golden fruit in the morning is always missing from some branch or other-and in childhood I used to be transfixed just by the beginning of that fairytale, never mind the rest of the story.

Also, the phrase "lay me down to sleep" refers to the children's prayer before bedtime:

"now I lay me down to sleep

I pray the Lord my soul to keep.

If I should die before I wake,

I pray the Lord my soul to take."

which does not seem to me like a bad prayer to pray as an older person, either.