taken into account, obscurely dreamed
I caught this morning's Mourning
in its gleam
the text of leaving green
on the milk white skies.
goodbye to the leaves
was scrawled on the evening wind
I have seen this before you murmured soft
you turned to go inside
and from the turret window, despite the
upstair's tenants' noise, the sudden slams
a glimmering sped in the breeze
and we could not answer
was it birds or leaves.
mary angela douglas 30 november 2016