Friday, July 03, 2015

Light Rain

we heard music through a cloud
so faintly; o finally we thought either
we are dying or it's music

unable to muster the interrogative.
though interrogated, slightly,
in the lunch rooms year by year,

I smiled:

everything in the declarative
or it's just unclear,
a little windy,

my dear not my dear
or anyone ever.
I'm not trying to be clever;

this is how it feels
rewinding the old reels
and not for the show-offs.

dummkopf cried they
in their several languages.

I heard only

the chiming of distant stars...
where are you, I sighed...
sowing their what-evers.

do you know if it's snowing
or is it just a light rain I heard
someone singing this refrain,

one sided conversations
the already broken down

on afternoons we couldn't
go into town;

on days we saw the canyons through gauze
and gaping holes where once there
were grand

pianos in the rooms.
so long, he said
to the treble clefs,

the grace notes trembling
on their winter's eve.
it isn't graceful to believe

In God Here.
yet, I do.
where the music is flowing to:

where one day
we'll really hear it,
you or I,

opening all the Presents at once.

mary angela douglas 3 july 2015 rev. 22 june 2017