Sunday, April 09, 2017

Panoply for Lucy

"the grass withers, the flower fades.
but the word of our God will stand forever.'

Isaiah 40:8

to my Grandmother, Lucy W. Young

are we tourists or do we seem
to want to be more in the
accident of dreams

in the full fledged formulas revealed
or does the incidence of roses gauge
the gardens green

the rainbows furled over violet vast
oceans, tbe courtyard fans fluttering.
the grey doved sonnets shirred.

basting the words on the hemline

of the sheen
of suns of stars of anything
grandmother was a girl in silver

once upon in her light shoes amused
at the glint of rain on pavements

in old paintings
film left in the cameras too long
and lightning struck

or peach starred on a blueberry background,
dusk that must come to the children in the yard
will she think hard and be acclaimed

or merely fade away an ornament of Time
and the near distances not on the concert stage
Chime! and the clocks come out to play

in a nursery way in the pink light nightlight
and the fluff of ancient feathers down the hall down draft
in the sunlight beams

as if from the Firebird.
my ballets.
my visions of tulle and the amethyst tiaras

the bows taken on the last gardenia days
and the old South going North to heaven
the East met West Displays

in the firecracker dark the grass.must fade, fade, fade

mary angela douglas 9 april 2017