the sky is on my heart as crystal etched
december's not that far away
the clouds hold rumors of the snowfall
I know I am not here to stay.
I know with every breathing of the pines
frost tipped and sealing themselves away
in every murmur that the leaves must make
that I must go away.
I must go away as others have
and leave the earth to orbit on
and I must close out all the beautiful accounts
before too long.
words I have loved weep softly in pale green
poems I have sought as Magi sought the Star
wanting to arrive through purple distance
to sing with my departed ones,
the crossing of the bar.
such few pearled seconds as remain
or years will ever feel the same
time isn't enough to say
what mystery has driven us here
and kept us on our way-
but we will say it still-
believing in the music of His will.
mary angela douglas 17 november 2019
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