Tuesday, May 04, 2021

To Sharon My Sister On The Brink Of May

in between tornado warnings we played jacks

and laughed at the names of clouds nimbus wimbus

all mimsy were we, caroling the Carroll two Alices

in the blue meadows of early days wafting our bubble wands

near the clover our Grandfather hadn't yet mowed

why did we grow so fast away from our shadows

and can they be sewed back on when our mother Wendy is gone

dear grandmother too.

I will remember you at the piano, Chopin and the world at your

amber command relentless the beautiful music you played then

an autumn wind most sere has taken it all away.

but the angels have harvested it I hear my mother say with tears

into such a golden hereater.

mary angela douglas 4 may 2021

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