Looking For A Finer Sieve

that winter we lived: looking for a finer sieve

that the honey might strain through from a single star

that we might hoard light.

that in the icehouse melting all that summer

still there might be a corner of shade

of the green days we loved

when the well was full.

I am full now

from the gold of the honey strained through

in hard times.

when the mines were closed.

when there seemed to be no gold

ah no,

light, light is unending

mary angela douglas 2021