Sometimes

something the trees forgot to say
stayed with me throughout the day
in a pale green whispering.

did the birds leave
with no silver warnings
were they mingled with

the voices of angels
these things I pondered on
while riding the bus

or filing later in the file rooms
of the world
thinking of Aquinas

his angels whirling on pins.
what does it feel like
to be the one sent

with the earth shattering message
to be filled with that much light.
or stooping through an unknown doorway

all gold and ruby with annunciations.
we never talked about this in school
or sitting at the kitchen table.

sometimes I saw a glistening on the walls
when we were all home.
and my Grandfather spoke of the Resurrection

as if it were filled with bird calls
in the Arkansas woods.

mary angela douglas 26 february 2018