Wednesday, November 26, 2014

The Lost Book Of When, The Page Open To Snowy Weather

the lost book of when and the page
opened to snowy weather confounds
the older children expecting

Christmas, peppermints any moment.
and the evening is paper-weighted:
blue lilies under glass though you feel

light as angel feathers where the pastel bulbs aglow
seem to paint pure Spring upon the porch railings,
along the rooftop rims, the white flock tips of the artificial Tree.
outside is cold but frozen in time you want to go

past colonnades of dream under moonlight.
and your socks are worn but you don't care
entranced and in a dream all your own

you wait for something
without knowing
what it is

mary angela douglas 26 november 2014