Strawberry Sun

for my sister Sharon. yes, again.

it is for you that continents drifted
small brooks foaming over stones
the ones you polished and took home

until your Grandmother said
why do you bring rocks home
her sherry eyes examining

them and I imagined her
asking the same of Jack
with his magic beans

she would have too
and then awoke to find
oh I hope the magic refined

of the trellising vine
that restored the family fortune
the gold of that harp;

it's singing line

what if I had planted them with all my heart's
secret, most birthday like wishes
those pebbles that no longer shone

in my room at home
but in the depths of our backyard
near the irises.

I like to think we could have learned
to live in the cloud countries
my sister and I

and all the Grand peres and meres
and Mama too with lilac in her dark hair
my Father inky from newspapers

eating chilled pears of the canned variety
not seeking notoriety we're
reading excerpts from the Reader's Digest

condensed books, condensed
as in milk, or in Campbell's soup
I used to wonder out lo0ud

oh let it rest said Sharon
in all her gum machine
peridot rings

knowing like Dorothy,
home is best
in the light of a strawberry sun.

mary angela douglas 31 december 2017