if you are the child who stands tiptoe at midnight
weighing in the balance of your small hands
the sparkle of snowlight against the stars
one miracle compared with another until
all is miracle I do not pity you that rains later
will wash all this away into the seemingly desultory
that the brine of salt will line your tears along with opals, rainbows
because I know you will retain
both star and snowlight in equal radiance, measure
and no one will own you.
mary angela douglas 17 october 2001
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