not that far off the ground
our hearts won't fail us
striving to be clouds or cherubs
even when the margins don't align
and birds fly off to other golden glosses
though the flowered borders remain through Time
red and green,
blue and gold flourishes in medieval calligraphy
what is this wizadry
upon the cream coloured morning
though from the high tower warning
cold ships are on the way
still it is still in
the almost festive cell
today as yesterday
the cold ships on the way notwithstanding
as though it were the First Dawn.
and you, the First Scribe of it
silent as snow on a vast page immutable.
mary angela douglas 1 january 2022;29 january 2022
this poem was revised on march 27 2023 and given a new title:
A SINGLE BLACKBIRD (FINAL VERSION)
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