I dreamed we passed through clouds without aeroplanes
and we were no one’s Project
but lived as we pleased, in the meadows,
understanding the field flowers,
or, when it rained,
under the broader leaves:
durations of the sunlit, the introspective hours
where the light floated through us
in gipsy coloured rays
as though we were prisms.
no census taken, night or day
we became stars and twinkled
in such profusion
they gave up counting us;
resigned from that illusion.
we became rich in ways
not easily boxed
making crowns of tinfoil,
crumpled candy wrappers
we crowned ourselves
and perched our green badged lean to’s
close to the wishing wells
in case the elusive armies
no prisoners taken
and the dogs of blizzards
dormant, should suddenly awaken.
mary angela douglas 2 may 2019
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