Transcriptions (for the Piano)

these transcriptions of a bridal sky
where cliffs of pearl drop off into silence
and the clouds float with the moon

woven through an infinite loom
I have woven too,
in my fashion

these transcriptions
shading unto rose;
into the rose gold of a script so

calibrated, it has to be May with her gardenias
or April at the very least that it may be
music and never cease

with the treble of stars;
the sense that where you are
you will always be

nostalgic for the evenings
and the breeze itself

the souvenir now of what you felt then
passing the white flowering trees
passing the turbulence of the spring violins

at the conservatory and in the twilight practice hour

when everything has flowered  and is blue
unto the perilous beauty of the Unseen;
the peridotal fragments gleaming into emerald

and everything is jeweled and all at once
it's Heraclitean; it's the fairy tale in its
kaleidoscopic phase

through the grass lightly you slip
through all your days;

younger than then
in the morning, mourning dew
the pale birds flown.

mary angela douglas 6 october 2019