When We Set Sail How Lilting Were The Notes

[to my sister, Sharon F. Douglas]

when we set sail how lilting were the notes
of dream birds on the rim of Time
and now the cup of dreaming deepens

and now, is it almost tipped over?
how will we catch the kaleidoscope's
flaring like a rose, inset with emerald leaves

when our hands are so small?
or wave the wand where bubbles reach the sun
before they pop

or wobble over the backyard where the red ants
mark their highways up the bark of
the trees who loved us?

long summers have passed by
the striped glasses in the cabinets.

it's the seesaw moments I recall the best
when I was in the clouds
and you in your winter hood laughing

on the ground.
I thought I would never get down.
now I would send you ladders of stars

and linen winds of coolness

if I thought they would reach you
where you are;
or roomfuls of gardenias

just to soothe you.

there. like a rest in the music.
in the pale green evenings,
still.

mary angela douglas 9 may 2015