Missing The Door To Dreamland

[to Eugene Field]

missing the door to Dreamland
maybe we got in through the window
from the branches of the apple tree

we always wished was in our back yard.
let it grow golden apples then
so no one can doubt

it is a tree of wishing.

let them thunder on the lawn
waking our small dog
who can't believe her good fortune.

and here are the sunsets made of taffy
(we always knew they were);
the early Christmas decorations of the stars

blinking their red green blue orange lemon starriness
over our hearts like Life Saver candies
so that the sky in all her branching

is the Tree
unto itself with extra icicles for sparkling
and the train whistle under it signaling

the angels suddenly appearing by the coffee table.

mary angela douglas 27 january 2016