Rose Carol Caroled And It Not Even Christmas Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

it's certain I am He counted every needle and pin,
every dropped stitch as a real attempt.
as for me, I wanted to live by

the rick rack stream
near the mill wheel turning
and all the millers, free.

why shouldn't it be
I'd ask Him dearly, this
being my very own prayer and

clearly wanting it to be so

that the spokes in the tangerines
would carry us to all the balls

and the honeysuckled air would breathe
and flow around the fairy tale's obstacles
as in the paintings of Van Gogh

with the marshmallow clouds all billowing

and we would stand small, firm and
arm in fairy like arm with all our
bracelet charms

before our Grandfather's rose garden
as it it were the entire world.

mary angela douglas 20 july 2015