Sunday best words come strolling
twirling their parasols.
inside they are pink-cheeked with excitement
one second before Christmas
they'll burst from a fairy tale garden
rife with mignonette
crowded with antique roses and with hyacinths
oh we were just in the neighborhood
coolly they'll insist.
we thought we'd drop by with dreamy blancmange.
how large the moon looms in their eyes
though they pretend otherwise.
but something gives them away.
a little silver raveling out of a pocket
a little gold dust on the floor where they
were standing somewhat out of the way
with their velveteen shadows with
wishes suddenly coming true by the bunches.
or there's an apricot tinge to their sky.
a cerise valentine offered, shyly.
call me old fashioned. I like them.
I like them a lot.
with or without doilies.
resplendent on the Avenue.
sidestepping the diamond hegemonies
flared out with an extra crinoline or two.
out racketing the bluebirds and
it isn't even spring yet.
wearing a peach cummerbund can't you imagine it?
their pockets stuffed with caramels double wrapped
in jewel toned foils.
my best friends in all the world the world
they whirl and whirl so happy on the sidewalk after Church,
my Sunday best words...
mary angela douglas 15 march 2014;6 august 2022
