The Russet Hours Return

we are the ghosts of ourselves sometimes

haunting the precincts where God has told us

in fragmentary gleams

now no longer dwell oh child of light

haunting the ruins where love took flight

be still, the Lord has mazed the mellow moon

in yellow splendor rising above autumnal earth

and banished tombs

and we would seek the richer harvests of His Light

come away from the dimly lighted

staring into the glass and pray;

oh Lord for all that has passed over me like a whirlwind

I do yet praise thee

cancel my haunting here

and let me see the rose dawn rising

over the greening fields.

and feel in the rush of stars from the skies a beautiful shearing;

the russet hours return, when You are near.

mary angela douglas 1 october 2020