of the next to the last word
I felt that birds through the pearl skies
skirted the edge of the painting.
and this was resembling what was
what folds into evening
behind the trees
what some have called the moon.
but they have called the tune too long
I said in my distress
and the milky colours weep
their rainbows out
the clouds hapless to defend
oh don't you remember the green winds
were for you
and came every day
at the beginning?
mary angela douglas 4 march 2016