the cooling wind through the night windows
the curtains flowing as if from unseen hands
or angels, the shattering of the midnight skies
and pouring rains outside.
and you are quilted in
the child of lets begin oh everything before we sleep
the scattered game pieces and the dolls
the let's play everything as if it were Christmas morning.
does growing old tick it all away
so that we no longer dare to say or think this way?
let us imagine
that we have summers berry full ahead of us
and take it all out of the closet
round up all the dolls again
and give them rides in the driveway wagon
over the gravel and grass to
Who Knows When
mary angela douglas 4 march 2017