REALMS

 

there are times I wonder

breaking the surface of a dream

if one day we may be invoiced

for the things we haven't seen

while filing all our worries

complete from A to Z

we miss the drifts of beauty

so myriad and free.

the lapping of the waves

as you row away

the faint pink in the winter sky

on the coldest day

the peace in any minute

we fill up with regret

I wonder why we do that

and the prismatic moment

curiously neglect

why are we wired so strangely

what is it that we lack

when miracles surround us

we take a dismal tack.

dear God help me to see it

beyond my list of chores

unceasingly the realms of joy

everywhere are stored.

mary angela douglas 4 march 2023