THE BEAUTIFUL DETAILS
What can we say about the beautiful details
Finely worked, or beckoning after long labour;
A single gleam of the sunlight, then is it gone? Like a
dream
Fugitive as any have made it out to be before me;
You must be alert my wayward heart to what can suddenly
appear
Even after years
You must not miss the instant something buds out of the
Dark of waiting
On the barren tree nor whisper to yourself disconsolately
It isnt for me for then it will fly away, one flicker of tangerine
To someone else’s Garden gloriously
Leaving you bereft of a song
That could have belonged to you only that oh,
Drifted so far perhaps, to find you.
mary angela douglas 16 july 2024;18 july 2024
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