over the boughs of April floats
the peach coloured moon
half hid in clouds
the clouds that evening gathered
when we were small
and the singer sings
and as she sings
the peach colured moon, blooms
unaccountably
it blooms toward music
and the singer makes the stars
in dark azure thimblefuls
the birds of evening rise
the world is beautiful in our eyes
a garden enclosed
where our mother sings and the moon
is a flower that blooms or is it half closed
over april boughs
and it means everything to us
no matter how
small we are
and blooming too
where the song comes through
the skies translucent as glass
when we ask for stories
and to know in the moment's crystal
as it passed
where is the vase containing the flowering moon.
the place where the music vanished, then.
mary angela douglas 14 december 2018
the peach coloured moon
half hid in clouds
the clouds that evening gathered
when we were small
and the singer sings
and as she sings
the peach colured moon, blooms
unaccountably
it blooms toward music
and the singer makes the stars
in dark azure thimblefuls
the birds of evening rise
the world is beautiful in our eyes
a garden enclosed
where our mother sings and the moon
is a flower that blooms or is it half closed
over april boughs
and it means everything to us
no matter how
small we are
and blooming too
where the song comes through
the skies translucent as glass
when we ask for stories
and to know in the moment's crystal
as it passed
where is the vase containing the flowering moon.
the place where the music vanished, then.
mary angela douglas 14 december 2018
