Nostalgia

all Your strawberry languages, your berry plumped
vines and bushes and the elderberry melt of the sun
through the pines green guardians of my angels

playing in the sandbox, dreamed my mother;
all Your delicate enflowered languages, your camellia phrasing
on the piano, sighed my Grandmother to my little

sister ah the magnolia in the silver bowl and the
gardenia insistence of your snow bright isn't it
almost Christmas sheen of chiffon before the

parties I asked my sister but she was heart-sweet on
her cherry bright scales sailing on Chopin oh
the elegance of the medium-small

dog with the pom pom tail wagging, smiling from

curly ear to ear crumbling fried chicken
under the modern table
hush my dear (my dears they all said)

to me in my sleep from out of the depths of God
who carries His jewels home
as if they were stars
as if they were pearls

oh they are...

mary angela douglas 16 august 2015