In The Arkansas Woods Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

the bridge is broken where it stood

the bridge of stone

the mill wheel will not turn again

and I miss home.

November's startled leaves by some mysterious angel, jinn

by some weird turning of the wind

will lift in random flight

the earth, rich loam, seems all my own

the skies filled with their ransomed light.

I used to feel with every leaf

like Shelley, my whole soul could lift

and in far childhood with a small wagon

i carried whatever I could of drifts

time has drifted now

I am the same somehow

sifted by love and grief

for this little bit

in the woods at dusk

but turn I must

through all this gold that now has set

and the leaf mold's beauty

I can't regret.

mary angela douglas 17 september 2019