there in the dense and fairy tale wood
the storybook kind where you’re all alone
and starlight shines in little pools
and violet and moss so happily coexist
with the least mist more beautiful, still;
still is starlight and quenching breeze
something is about to pop and sparkle even more
and wishes are heaped up with redolent leaves
even by the dragon’s door
the one they tamed
the ones who came before, soft is their footfall now.
perhaps they leave now the light lilting snows
for you, like ivory souvenirs while
the moon drops all her valorous gold
upon the floor of pine needles and acorns
sifting at last the gold of time passed
in an unfettered alchemy
and from this dream, its skies of rose and seafoam green
there is no one who will shake you awake
because already, you are home.
mary angela douglas 30 december 2023
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