in memory of John Glenn...
they seem afraid to write about the stars
in a wonderstruck way, the colour that descends
and the leaves that stray across any footpath
carelessly rich with beauty, near decay.
why are they
ashamed of beauty
and of praise
I try to understand
and find rank mockery
on every hand
and so I learn to read
the ancient poets, one by one
pretending that this world has run its course
or will have soon
and I will stay in love with the moon, the
endless illuminations night or day
and praise the God
that made it all this way.
mary angela douglas 16 december 2016
they seem afraid to write about the stars
in a wonderstruck way, the colour that descends
and the leaves that stray across any footpath
carelessly rich with beauty, near decay.
why are they
ashamed of beauty
and of praise
I try to understand
and find rank mockery
on every hand
and so I learn to read
the ancient poets, one by one
pretending that this world has run its course
or will have soon
and I will stay in love with the moon, the
endless illuminations night or day
and praise the God
that made it all this way.
mary angela douglas 16 december 2016
