STRAIGHT UP

not all the kings and queens 

with their glitter showers coming down upon them

could I treasure more

then the sight 

of one cream sky

made by the Lord God.

what coloured beads, what pocketbook mirrors indeed

could I trade in, with the trading stamps:

all the gaudy parade

to hear one mockingbird in the shade

that I heard then.

to hear you say, so blase, my mockingbird is a cliche

makes me laugh to top spinning giddiness

you do not know my mockingbird obviously

the one who madrigaled all day amid the magnolias

in our backyard

when we were little

and every star was wrapped with tinsel

we thought my sister and I to hide even greater Glory

of the lemon and blue dwarf stars we knew

from the picture books

and we danced around in the summer grass 

swing-a-statue

praising the cream sky, the ones who loved us

the frozen chicken pies of home and piano resonance

the fresh recitals of the rains 

the rapidly falling petals of the roses

and the Father nearby

where Heaven is, we said

Straight Up

the orange and crimson zinnias

from last year;

forsythia blooming 

with the tearose Easters and the sugar eggs

mary angela douglas 12 august 2023