We Are The Cherry Sprigged Persons Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

is it, it isn't too late to dream
we are the cherry sprigged persons
in the picture books

spooning cream with berries
wreathed with art nouveau
or tinted angels on the scene

and breathing home or the
four winds with equanimity
my new word I learned today

she exclaimed and it shines impeccably,
penny bright may this
be the world we never

leave behind
where thoughts are kind
and actions and the only art

is the glass we hold in our hands
that will not spill a drop of magic
but contain it carefully through

all the lies of the outer world the
incriminating scenes the tearful leaving home
unexpectedly

thus in my poem I leave you this small gift
wrapped seven times round with jeweled ribands
and the thrift of saving everything that's bright

for all my dears and the untold dears of God
in generations succeeding
these little stars snipped out for all oh all

your winter nights
and grieving

mary angela douglas 9 december 2015