Monday, April 10, 2017

On The Lily Pond Centuries Later

how indigenous these rocks, that clay
perhaps they say in a half baked dream I had
one day and I laugh at my mud pied dreaming

indigenous lovely word indigenous
yes we all are
native to this place

these rocks these waves
these summer days
and I glide off like Alice

on the lily pond
trailing my hand in the waters in
a frock just made for the occasion

light as light itself
and embroidered.
how will I learn to say

I wonder when I am small
such great good things
in a golden way

except by listening to each word
carefully tasting it like a cherry
lozenge making it last

all day, for years,
even centuries...

mary angela douglas 10 april 2017