CONVERSATIONS

 

CONVERSATIONS

Here in between the folds of mountains and valleys of

the papier mache maps we made in school

I suddenly find in memory’s store

such tremulous conversations

I cannot butterfly pin down or word for word imply

The golden threads of them

Hearts miasma oh let us dial back

The sun dial shadows no longer telling time under the shade trees and

Only slightly sparkling to indicate the snow capped 

Conversations of what we would do instead

If the most wondrous things turned out to be true

And in our words seemed woven the gold and the blue

Of echoing angels

Why try to explain the miraculous

Just let yourself in with the passkey from God

Tread softly on the moss floors

Examine the walls of milky quartz

Live under the rain proof roof of imaginations dower

We did and spoke for hours and hours.

While God listened in with his peony skies

And the clouds above us grew spangled.

The nights so breathlessly calm.

mary angela douglas 12 may 2024