Since Soaring Is (Variation after the ballet Jewels by George Balanchine;riff on a letter of Wilbur Wright's)

SINCE SOARING IS (VARIATION AFTER THE BALLET JEWELS BY GEORGE BALANCHINE;RIFF ON A LETTER OF WILBUR WRIGHT'S...

to my Mother, leaning out of Heaven... (Mary Adalyn Young-Douglas)

Since soaring is merely gliding in a rising current..., I read in a letter of Wilbur Wrights

in one of his luminescent para ti, paraphrase para mi parasailing phrases and my mind drifted off

some small kite on the wind, if not glider to where I could hear the bells on the hems of the angels garments sing

the semi oceanic swell of the rose bright words of former poets drifting, drifting the finer silver edged, ruby edged lift off

since morning is merely gliding let me in on the phrase where everything is riding on one choice word I asked of them

the gyroscope, the feeling of hope, small jonquil diamonds spinning

and Christmas echoing through the dream corridors of small children early rising from their beds.

for what's ahead in the cinnamon winds, for the weather vanes of gold

since soaring is gliding merely let the words with new made wings arise, arise

in the dawn lit skies and apple blossom free

masquerading as birds or turquoise and see through mere ghosts gliding on the crest of language, still;

you know, they always will and with an emerald propinquity grant me

the casting and recasting of the sequined twine

toward the Blessed Damozel, in blue vidrian.

mary angela douglas 24 february 2021

No More The Languid Ballets

no more the languid ballets of the waltz length days
in pale arrangements consistent with my dreams
but now the frenetic order makes its overrated entrance

conquering the scenes which must be shortened, if at all.
tolerated;and the technocratic insistence
on cutting things down to size, prevailing.

goodbye I sigh and sigh again that music to prolong
goodbye to lovely song and music elongated to the
soul's great charm displayed that now must certainly retire

entirely from the stage and o! the banished kingdoms
doomed to go with it into oblivion. good riddance,
they say

who deem not even now its shadows visible

in the corp de ballet to remain
where it was uniformly mysteriously surveyed
in the last stages of life oh fleeting.

goodbye to the swans to the immortal pose
and the last roses.
summer is upon us or it was

the crickets chirring under dim orchid skies
the sweet once cherished lands of just because.
disappearing.

all the pale legendary...

mary angela douglas 21 january 2018

The Nocturne Played As A Child

the cut velvet draping of the evening

the sequined sky

the elegance of God the sprigged trees

is it always april in her mind
on a terrace as quiet
as one jeweled cloud?

she plays the nocturnes simply

on the piano of green breezes

and wears a nosegay of pale pink

and only dresses in rose.

all this was at the beginning of music

the nocturne played as a child

the spinning out of the frosted ballets

in wide skirts like flowers

and this is ours

until the last note fades into the green green

darkness that He made

and where we want to live

mary angela douglas 21 february 2015