Dorothy Slept In The Emerald Eye Of Cyclones Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

Dorothy slept in the emerald eye of cyclones
hearing the sound of running water, running footsteps;
away from these gold fields, she cried!

to her surprise already
missing home, and that amazed by trees
shedding emerald leaves
along the boulevards of dreams and

feeling a little small among the figurines,
the lemon drop candy dished breakables.
Dorothy, at once! in a green dress, once ice blue-

remained herself, predictable as storms
finding the irregular beautiful; on the doorstep of
many houses peering in
to admire so rainbow-boxed!

the blooms of near neighbors
next door to a dream and
violet, swirled as carnival glass, country, contrary-wise.

deep in His iridescence, not to be swept away.
I haven't come to stay she said firmly.
waking up in the afternoon
to ham biscuits, farmhouse coffee

2/3 cream.
to her own room
with the bluebird wallpaper.

mary angela douglas 2 january 2014; rev. august 20,2014