Crystalline

I remember the crystalline feeling
of the snow tree, about to bloom in the skies;
a sharp sparkle in the air,
and we are made of diamonds.
I remember thinking that way and
the icy coating on the holly bushes
near the front porch
the Christmas exhilarations.
the icicles refracted only blue
from the eaves
and we were on leave from school;
all things were possible then
and freshness blew with every wind
down to the portals of the soul;
the soul carved in ivory and circumspect
on a ship of gold
holding all things lovely.

mary angela douglas 1 november 2017