The End Of The Measure

can anything here ever start again I asked the leaves in a withering 

wind or I hold with God my end of the bargain

perhaps you thought of this at the end of the measure

the measure in a dream and the metronome done

the music in a drawer incapable of being translated.

will I ever feel the fresh air on my face as I did then

in this place or when the shadows are plum coloured

the bird in the fairy tale primed to sing and signal to us that

beauty has come like a ghost into the old gardens

shall I observe the apricot moon

or shall I drift till noon

shall I drift the rest of mortal life away

on the chance that suddenly in a half dream

the light of one most singular star

through clouds of violet and through the heavy mists

will turn the pavements into amethyst.

mary angela douglas 2 january 2021