I wonder where my time has gone
and why its gold spilled out on the pavements
of the world before, is beclouded now.
am I just winter's creature out of sight
until the flowery boon of spring returns
or will the glint of other worlds inured
that only slip beyond the bright
enamel my footsteps
through the room, and cancel my flight.
cast in the wind that barely breathes
I sail not forth
I catch no breeze
out of sync with the turning world
and left inside to grieve.
mary angela douglas 2 january 2017