The Steps You Take In A Mist

the steps you take in a mist are very small
like fine stitching she told me
dressed in her rose red cape

and I was waiting for the bus on
a Sunday forgetting it was Sunday
and that the bus would never come

and so I started taking fine steps
silken ones really on the side walks
I had faith were there

and began to sing in a kind of snow
speech under the heavy skies
I am taking small steps in the mist

with no one beside
and the ditch of extremity eludes me
who am elusive too

they used to say
when I was not mist
and they still spoke to me

anyway; I am here
and in my bridal slippers
as it should be in a mist

carrying silvered lilies away
into the vanishing of afternoons
and I want too much to say if you

could catch up the snow words
on the way with the moon
as if they were your bouquet-

that I do not miss being There

at all.

mary angela douglas 28 december 2015