whole civilizations were in want of a green shade
and rest like water; music,
a dreaming glade. or did it only seem that way.
set this aside, once God his angels told
and I remember going there once as a child;
we had lemon ice cream after.
now is it overgrown?
is there a road left there, white sanded,
oh close your eyes and you are home:
the waterfall gushes over the rocks,
the fragrant branches stir.
even the shadows are yours, and cool.
mary angela douglas 5 july 2016