Was I By The Ochre Or The Rubied Trees

was I by the ochre and the rubied trees
underneath the skies of silken grey?
I wonder, was it real and if, in feeling

should I go back
and hear the crackle of leaves
beneath my feet

on a walk at evening
near my old schools as I
and they were then

until it is too cool to be outside
and I'll walk back 
alone as I longed to be and as I was

latched into my own mind
and dream at my window
in a rose coloured blind

having read Rilke for the first time
outside of the school assignments
or Dante, The Paradiso, by Ciardi

with no one recommending him to me;
perhaps, the Unseen or unseen angels
and with the light snow falling

before the lamplight
so that you could see
it was snowing at night

though it had just begun
and I or was it I
have opened the window

entirely so the snow terraced
winds come through,
the few leaves remaining, reminding me:
I am the only one remembering that autumn;
I was the only one there.

mary angela douglas 18 august 2016