Now We Come To The Counting Of Rings Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

Now we come to the counting of rings
On waters and on the trees of Dream
The age of Ice or Rose who knows
The ice crested halos around the threading moon
The threnody of it singing, in me, singing
I have held in my soul like a light cloud drifting
Now we come to the census of years
That cannot be accounted for
When the heart grew tangled over the trails unmarked
And the ferns breathed in
The winds near the waters streaming
With tears or rainfall, who could distinguish
And I then Lord God eluding anguish
I loved
So many constellations
Waves, the lichen under moonlight as well
The moss on the bark the vines that were trellised
In the half life of shadows
And I clinging to the unseen
The music that was always
Farther away
And me, disappearing
Trying to find the source of it.
That I might attune my Soul.
mary angela douglas 14 may 2024