And We Are Rooted In A Certain Rosiness Then

when we are young

and we are rooted in a certain rosiness then

that colors all our speaking and thinking

we do not realize what we are living through

with its daily chicken pies and homework

in later years will seem like a mirage

and wonder why we thought it would last.

that all would remain like a stowed train

on later tracks looking back and presently too:

the same rosiness in the sky

the passersby, the same, the storefronts

the same grocery greetings, the oranges stacked just so

at the markets where we say hello to those

we will always say hello to, especially at Christmas;

this is all we know we knew of Time back then

like the Timex watch that just keeps ticking

even when it takes a liking, the tv said

the man in the white coat fishing it out of the 

fishless aquarium;

the way our Grandmother pins her hair before the dresser mirror

and then her hat so her hair, her hat isn't caught

by the Arkansas ever present breeze

and we never think at least not then

of how the wind of death will blow

leaving us behind and all contents to never

settle again in the pink brick house with the piano studio

setting my Grandmother down

and with the Heavenly crown 

she dreamed of here on earth 

before the vast mirrors in Heaven of her rebirth

pinning a new hat, with its small blazing veil

its elegance as if she had now

all the time in the world

which she only had back there in music.

mary angela douglas 10 december 2021;1 february 2022