and stamp it with the willow tree
or with a golden seam.
cream butter, submerged in springs all summer,
ice cold lady-in-waiting for
the Elderberry Queen, the jam of
all jams, spread lightly on a honeyed crust
or the thin crusts for the gentlefolks' tea
fallen on poverty
with wild strawberries crushed
and savored to the last crumb
with a prayer and the last
of the wild mint
when winter's in the air
Christmas so near.
when we say to the ghost of our angels
pass the butter, dears.
go fish where there are no fish
and make a tricoloured wish
for the Trinity is here
asking for drawn butter
on God's asparagus.
mary angela douglas 29 march 2016