NOW WE COME TO THE COUNTING OF RINGS

 

NOW WE COME TO THE COUNTING OF RINGS

Now we come to the counting of rings

On waters and on the trees of Dream

The age of Ice or Rose who knows

The ice crested halos around the threading moon

The threnody of it singing, in me, singing

I have held in my soul like a light cloud drifting

Now we come to the census of years

That cannot be accounted for

When the heart grew tangled over the trails unmarked

And the ferns breathed in

The winds near the waters streaming

With tears or rainfall, who could distinguish

And I then Lord God eluding anguish

 I loved

So many constellations

Waves, the lichen under moonlight as well

The moss on the bark the vines that were trellised

In the half life of shadows

And I clinging to the unseen

The music that was always

Farther away

And me, disappearing

Trying to find the source of it.

That I might attune my Soul.

mary angela douglas 14 may 2024