A Thief Came Stealing The Roses Out Of My Poems

 A THIEF CAME STEALING THE ROSES OUT OF MY POEMS

a thief came stealing the roses out of my poems.

the moss from under my footfall.

to whom should I complain.

I know my roses will grow again.

the green gold moss by the violets I saw

in the early grades.

I wonder if there were witnesses.

when he skimmed the cream of moonlight

the unusual way it struck my retina and

if I write about the stars next

will men then look up and praise the starlight

that was there:

plucked out of ex nihilo by the One

who asked me to write certain things down

in the first place; about roses, moss and the undercoating

of snow

by the one who originally spoke in florid bright illuminating grace

Let Light Be. let there be floods

I will not drown. let there be floods of thieves

I will not grieve

at least I know

false poets come and go

true beauty praises the Original.

mary angela douglas 2 january 2021

1Mary Angela Douglas