Impermanent Pressed My Snow Clouds Fold Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

impermanent pressed my snow skies fold
above a line of liquid gold in the chill a.m.
I hear the crank and sighs; the steam rise,

dreams of old radiators; happy at home
to be feeling this alive among
my Christmas greens

no more wandering wondering
under the Star and off from work
because the snow clouds fleece

flies thick as in the fairy tales when
the housekeepers of the skies
beat their pillows so fine into

the sodden crystal that sugar frost my windowpanes
I love you clouds I whisper soundlessly to God,
and freedom.

mary angela douglas 20 novemer 2015