[partly inspired by the lovely song (by Howard Blake) Walking in the Air (and the Raymond Briggs film, "The Snowman"] and to the melting, melted poets...all]
flying above all melting
may we one day come to see
how solid the Northern Lights up there
appear and childhood's coloured clouds.
and all you thought was missing reappears
with the vanilla moon.
holding the old poems to the vest-
the old made new- the poets of your East and West
will radiate a mystery (or two)
beyond the resolving dews of broidered language
oh my lost beacons over a violet sea...
and could it be? His heart was calling you, even then:
you, with your scattered rhymes your
cross-hatched feelings-
head on your arms
beneath His soft green trees
mary angela douglas 24 october 2014
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