SAINTS LEAVE ON THE WIND THEY SAY

 

SAINTS LEAVE ON THE WIND THEY SAY

Saints leave on the wind they say

The fragrance of lilies

Heaped up roses

In my sere garden

The curled maple leaf blows

Never again to reach the Tree

That gave it life but I try not to be

Desultory

Let red gold flame

In a momentary wind

Circuitous toward Heaven

Let us be lily of the valley

Gladness

The blue and gold we were

Like a vestment we once wore.

That now is scattered everywhere

In the infinity of afternoon.

mary angela douglas 11 july 2024