My Seedling Trees I Have Watched Over Thee

[to William Blake]

my seedling trees
I have watched over thee
in the forests of dream

notwithstanding the charred ends
of their matchstick words in daylight
I dream the surge of the rose tinged

the plum scented wind
in and out of my castles again
taking the eviction signs

permanently for fiction.
transitional housing I;m on the cheklist
they label me on the vasty forms

but I say we are all in transitional housing
bound in the same way
until we reach the Eternal

and the gladsome gardens and the gladioli
scarlet against the white iris;
cream of the flowering constellations

above our heads
since

there are no settlers on earth

and our address is marred from birth

unless it's in the stars
where one day you my poem trees
will be filled with multitudes

of the singing, the silvery birds.
the tunes of Wonder.

the embroidery of the Sun.

mary angela douglas 4 november 2017