There Was A Language Green As Trees

there was a language green as trees

in summer’s ease, there was a language
in the jade of seas spelled out elegantly

beyond all measure.
the way you may speak in dreams,
in pearls, not syllables

not knowing how it happened
that scene flowed onto scene, illuminated

of you found keys in unlikely places
the trace of beauty…and the myth imbued,
imbued with music,

the pace of saints across
the suddenly flowering fields
and everything feeling

like home in fine detail
down to the appling of trees;
cream lace tablecloths with little blue dishes

lilacs spilling over a pale green fence all this
comprising the unalloyed gold
the unalloyed gold and the baby soul

the cottage brocade of roses
and no cortege
and the floors swept clean; too

charming the windows flung open then
(joy, at it’s zenith)-
to the clear cut pause in the fairy tale wind

where Eternity enters in with its purple cymbals
and you all golden for awhile; in airy rooms
your children made of amber, and honey

the song dropped down the slowing down of time
each letter budding unto stars of the milky quartz
you found at your feet as a small child in the garden,

all roses murmuring, "remember...."

as they did for Hans Andersen
you turned to greet God

not knowing what to say
just happy in the sunlight and the bluebird finishings
and foreign accents,beautiful and strange

the speech of the glittering reeds by the riverbanks
after the story’s end, the marginal flowers
and the vivid heart recalled.

mary angela douglas 1 june 2018;2 june 2021