Madrigal

how can I reach the top notes of the floral-

Jesu, after all you've seen.

this is not that april.

and I have followed

where there is no green

and where the small white stars of flowers

have been shaken.

somewhere my madrigal waits 

and I will know it.

Jesu, under the pink bloom of that sky-

you will not cry.

how long has singing left the world

since you were here;

the voice of silver floats above

but I cannot capture it.

mute as snows.

one day my madrigal may unfold

a Spring that will not leave again,

a home,

till then my madrigal bides

the feted castles' sleep.

and this is not that april.

mary angela douglas 21 april 2014