I imagine your pictures
doll sized on the postage stamps
my mother showed me once
so much glory encapsulated
now I rise to different dawns
that feeling remains
of Renaissance colours
unmistakably full of angels
unseen beauty, yet beauty seen.
I glimpse through near tears
the intervening years
Christmas in the palm of my hand.
my mother would understand.
frag angelico through the cold rains.
mary angela douglas 28 july 2017