Your fingerprinted Light I have held in my heart
immeasurable while waiting for
the school bells at the end of galaxies to ring,
crystalline in decembers or outside
of classrooms in the night air
when the Rilkean winds are stirred
and birdsong, framed from tip to opulent tip.
and are you lost in the brush of wings,
in the thick of It,
of sudden angels as they sing and the
velvet of Christmases falls upon you
as a mantle.
O as the Magi
may you be, wrapped in the purple of
the journeys you could undertake even when learning to divide
the Golden apples among friends
no longer with us, here, on Earth.
mary angela douglas 24 june 2016