of those aiming from the half lights
who cannot decide between shadow and sun,
which disguise to put on.
and you in the rosepetaled dawn
leaning out from your tower
your heart full of birdsong
expectant of hours
cannot begin to know
what waits for you
and the highway robberies to ensue.
you dressed in gold from crown
to tip of satin cased shoe
the fairy tale having given you your due
after woe filled hours,
still may encounter them
butter dripping from their chins
and weasley at the feasts
with their sleight of hand
the cutthroat words at their command
the endlessly snipping tailors,
instigators of the picnic showers;
take cover with the flowers
and cover yourself in the dews.
they are looking for you.
mary angela douglas 10 july 2017