THE END OF WEATHER AS WE KNEW IT (FINAL VERSION)

 

you will say suppressing a smile

I am speaking about the news on earth

but that is not the point at all

I mean the inner weather from our birth

how it shifts across the violet skies time lapsed;

how its migrating birds arise.

and boils up in its own particular last ditch summers

and when it snows there it is a pearl edged ensign in the skies

composed of such intricate ballets

the soul never grows tired of enacting them.

the end of weather as we knew it has arrived.

the pinkish amber of mornings now disclose

you breathe, but not steadily, in faint rose;

so many paths are overgrown with vines

so many trees pruned back in Time too far

unblossoming

beside unrecognizable housing.

beauty sleeps pulled back from the brink;

we are at the end of weather as we knew it

the clarion autumns understand

leaf by leaf the life that was gold we are leaving

for something not at our command;

metamorphosis

that ultimate sleight of hand.

yet hope for life renewed is a fountaining tree;

the far off bells calling us to a life without forecasts at all.

when, by degrees we start to imagine an infinite freedom.

instead of which we are taking the last flight Home

to bargain with the partially uncaged soul.

mary angela douglas 29 october 2021;14 april 2023