I Dreamed It Was The Birthday Of The Sun

I dreamed it was the birthday of the sun
we wore saffron but in paler shades and brought,
courteous to the end,

small presents wrapped in scarves of old gold

it's the glittering thread that unravels
causing consternation among the new monied.
I fled the glare of myths and tributes

and wasn't invited again.
well you know anyway
that gold is not always

gold, or fame like cherry filling.
that peachbright we will rise again
in greens and blues, God willing.

mary angela douglas 27 may 2018