Sometimes The Real Seeps Under The Door Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

sometimes the Real seeps under the door
and you are happy and you can't think why
though there's no sunshine in the sky.

sometimes a Gold is with you, unexpectedly;
the Beautiful: the one they turned away
from many doors or never even noticed

it invisibly shimmering while they were
shivering at the bus stop.
a leaf falls from a tree in polished red

with a message; take a Holiday, won't you?
and you don't understand how it was
that it fell just at the moment when

you appeared, as if it had been waiting to,
throughout the year, and there it is:
a telegram from God, or valentine

maple scripted; meant for you;
you'll press in a book, later
to recall this vivid day.

mary angela douglas 4 january 2016