something so tremulous yet so stalwart
came to me in the paradox of dreams
of the dream languages
what is this shaking of snow
from the branches of an unearthly sky
the pause in the music
for the inferred goodbyes
the words that did not form
but remained tears spilling over into seas.
you can say I didnt know a thing
in earlier years
but I knew then the tremulous and stalwart
are rarely in balance
as if the sun and the moon
appeared conjointly
in the same summer sky
announcing it's time to leave now
on a day when the pipes froze.
and no one tried to explain
why you felt like crying.
mary angela douglas 7 july 2023
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