When We Ran

the orange stained glass of the Monarch's wings
their fluttering over milkweed
we studied through the summers

the positions of stars
the light that wavered above our yard
our skirts stained with grass

from our play that we were the great Dancers
who could leap from stone to stone
who read in our sleep the

stories of green and gold.
whose were you mornings made of mist
and maple red

our souls like the crunch of apples
the appled sun setting or rising
and we were the wind

when we ran.

mary angela douglas 31 january 2016