Rilkean birds flew out of my heart
startled by the nearness of the skies.
cloud music I have loved you
with an unseen love
imagining the winds at Duino
and the first gold fissure of
angels floating nigh
the pale green parapets in
dangerous weather, the
Poet almost blown overboard…
who can forget to love, to sigh for
the poet born
to be wounded by rose thorns
business letters and the unrecorded-
covert sniping glances on
the endless evening avenues where you walked-
lost in dream, as in your thought
and always leaving before asked to.
any vicinity on earth.
the leaves whirl up as high as the sunset
left in your wake by God
though you're no longer here to gather them
or love
to take from them the essence of the Tree
the essence of leaves, of stars
as they fly, the essence of saying goodbye
so that
children gazing from new windows-
unused to the battlements of high Song-
suddenly-began to dream…
began to notice the teacups rattling on their own-
and the far distances…
as though they were meant to be
strange neighbors
in the same music,
Shining-
mary angela douglas 27-28 february 2012;rev. 2 june 2022
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