Wednesday, March 30, 2016


fitting the cloud to the sky , the sky to the tree
will you end up with too many pieces?
or will it all fit easily and there

in the pastoral scene you will feel:
there is home, the small cottage.
the sheep feeding by the tranquil lake.

or it will take nights up late as you go through

one by one all the scenarios.
and something seems missing,
though it isn't you-

like in a dream where you can't
remember your last address
or if the next bus will wait

and your fate is
like a jigsaw puzzle
with a yawning canyon

of blank cardboard and no way
to figure out where the pieces
would go, if you could even find them.

and it begins snowing pieces of snow
on a jagged earth and is this the dearth
of making things whole and sound?

your sitting on the ground by the earthquakes.
your angels playing with the shards
of old pottery

when someone shows up over the ridge to say
come quick! in the devastating geophysical year
cave paintings had just begun to appear

on the walls of a heart.

mary angela douglas 30 march 2016