we had coloured in our robin's egg blue day
and this was perpetual Easter
and in our Easter dresses and with the backyard lilies in our hands
we would stand on the green and within the dark green shadows.
having our pictures made by a smiling Grandfather.
this was our circumference then; all april weather
when Grandmother tied our sashes perfectly
and Mama was replete, springlike in conversation
we could not measure;only live within.
I know this happened even though the violet storms rolled in
even though that house so solid then is the house is a house of memory now
and though I would visit it somehow
through a thousand thousand blizzards
and the way most treacherous
even in rags
I know the door is locked now.
and different people live there
who do not know me.
mary angela douglas 9 january 2020
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