I Wanted China The Colour Of Geraniums

I wanted china the colour of geraniums.
teacups with golden rims.
a small porch.

so many books that people passing by
would say, oh, that's the book house;
isn't it lovely?

come and read the sunrise here.
the sheer winds
I would say to my soul-

the sheer winds that blow only,
through the high trees.
fear no disease;

breathe freely the words on the page
whether ornamental or plain spoken.
and within your heart keep silence

in the rains.
these and many other things
I dreamed as many do

though Grandmother said don't dream,
but do.
yet I have seen in daylit hours

and no mistake-

wild angels on their sorties
mending the breached realms
of Poetry.

mary angela douglas 7 october 2015