Sunday, April 10, 2016

Witnesses

yet whole in a storm you don't remember,
were you fractured?
timepiece seeming to tick but then

something chimes amiss, and this
is the beginning, the Angel says;
the tall one in the paintings.

with the apple green background.

lilies on both sides of you;and you stand straight
trying to stay the same.because you know,
God expects this,.and you love Him.

stylystically it means you should care 
your step on the piazza is light and in the lingering
rains, remain unclouded
remembering
what you wanted to learn back there.

the air is flower filled, you dreamed

poetry is spurned now;
weeping is spurned!
Poetry is a golden coinage nobody

can spend so that moonlight

overflows and no one weeps for it but
the witnessing trees. 
the rose light scarred, the last evenings.

mary angela douglas 10 april 2016