Well

if I could go where the pears brush gold against the bluest sky

where my tablecoth matches

the china is pure white with a pale green border

the house has guardian trees

where the only sound is the breeze and occasional singing

the bells on the wind

I would send for a golden coach and be on my way.

not linger in today where everything is noise even when there is a pause

at the end of sentences. where no one thinks a bowl of strawberries is enough

and to be content with what you make up in your own imagination

and where always something is required something you are never told

so that you always fall short.

I would vacate all premises where just outside the door the hallways roar

with small incriminations even when the neighbors arent home

and go to live at an ice station where only I was taking the readings

in a small igloo lined with fleece with a fine library. and the aurora borealis.

there solitude would increase and rest would be

with dreams or without well,

something even the fairies would envy

from their brigtht dells.

mary angela douglas 9 november 2020