what is home now.
a circlet of milk quartz stones.
the wafting of pine boughs
my footsteps soft on the pine needle ground
and at the forest core. the mosses restored.
what is home now lifts the fleecy sky
into the coral folds
the sky sheep drifting by
we have lost all sense of direction
cerise in our introspection
still there is the crystalline perfection of stars
the North Star on its own the bleating of winds.
the moon shifting imperceptibly
slid through clouds as a silver coin, coin of this realm could be
past the poetic machinery into
still radiant Song.
mary angela douglas 8 april 2020
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