I cried out not to the red ashed caves but
to the greenwoods, greenwoods.
sweet echoes came back.
come back to me mourned the mirroring moons
in the dark pools reflected
and no one to see.the children at sea.
come back to me murmured the lilied fronds
and the wildflowers sown all down to the seas
and these the margins of our happiness,
or should be, mayflowered and splendid.
let those who lied to all children flee
and beauty reign over us, and the sound of the seas,
the wildflowers bent in a crimson wind then
turning to ochre, to sudden rubies; Again!
said we; deep in our enchantments; Home.
mary angela douglas 16 april 2016