FOR RAY BRADBURY IN HIS IMMEMORIAL CENTENNIAL YEAR

in the centennial year of your fire balloon, Life!, over an

horizon invisible drifting

in the year of the twining of green leaves over the avenues

still o Waukegan:

the census of shadows librarian-hushed

the dawns of summers made more heavenly on earth

by your prescient absence, Ray we remember

not only the stories but that they came from you

infused with eternal sunniness even in dungeons or up on

treeless Mars where we must be if we be at all the green

mornings ourselves or in many storied Araby or,

or carnival crowned, enamoured of

the baked bread aromas of home or the zig zag electric

loveliness, that Feeling: young or old, Chaplinesque, a trifle

whimsical after the manner of Pickwick or

with Icarus enthroned far from the green-blue, the troubling

seas

to be the first one up

to see the stars and street light diminishments.

there is no diminishment though you can't count time by

dandelions anymore by the vintage year stored.

but we can

when we read you still. and when,

treading on the mystical lawns.

we dream on.

mary angela douglas 28 february 2020