no more dimes for the meter
and the sky with more of a faraway cast to it than ever
is closing in.
even in the cinema it rolls in with its clouds
past the lobby, the refreshment stand, rumbling
its cumulus colours;rounding the bend.it finds you.
the winds gather speed.
the ink you write in bleeds to indigo though it starts out gold
and finishes in amber whatever it is
you are finishing invariably knows that
you know winter is about to descend
you dont consult your watch anymore
or even distant friends
but wait for something sensed as if a bell might ring
causing commencement
a crystal bell summoned by angels you are
summoned by angels or you will be or a
ship is docking where there are no waters now
and there’s nothing to mend
because you won’t be wearing it tomorrow
mary angela douglas 26 september 2020
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