piano or starling or music
in any disguise surprises us
each time with sentiment from some other realm
unfurled like the flag of Rilke's far spaces
and makes me weep for something else somewhere
mislaid and filagreed
the traces of
how the music reaches
what can never be said hushed though the winds become
in so many complicated threads
each one, another shade of gold
like the rose gold near the heart
in the locket folded
the song you would wish to sing
if only you had, snow graced,
the aureole, wings to find it
in a celestial season
flashing like a star.
transcribed.
mary angela douglas 4 november 2022
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