Arcadia, the word is like a cherry lozenge on the tongue
or butter rum my sister proposed
looking up from the swing sitting idle
in the sunlight
peripatetic child of music.
and now we're seeking the names of clouds
and we are far from trouble in the blue isles
sprouting wings and laughing sporadically
in cumulo nimbus, cumulo stratus, cirrus
cirrus, circuses in green and the tightrope lady
in pink sequined skirts
and this is our just desserts
we say, scooping into the fudge sundaes
or playing in the sprinkler on
hot Arkansas days
when the roses boil
and summer lasts till Christmas.
mary angela douglas 28 june 2016
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