Three Birds Arose In A Rose Dawn

three birds arose in a rose dawn
and I looked on, their summer witness
as in an alternate history, dreamed;

perhaps the only one to think
are we on the brink of something rubied in the world
a cusp of gold, and sonar on the wind

never to see it, hear it again, to feel in a velvet course
with the selfsame feeling, with hidden words conveyed
their flight, and flickering

I saw from my particular starting gate in life, thus far,
a certain way I could not replicate now
and in a green wondering, wondered

as if in a wood on the first page of the tale

were they the presage or the message itself;
how could I know that day were they boon or blight
or for that instant only, in a never repeating Universe,

more than Light itself

mary angela douglas 17 june 2019