Mary Angela Douglas Poems

forever finding the silver key
to the golden door
the right glove not the left
...

is life not burning bush enough
that we should kneel
here in the shadow of your lovely
...

would you care for a drop of chocolate,
a pink iced bun?
we asked the Fairy on the run.
...

arranging the pasteboard furniture
in the dollhouse, won't the
summer be fine? and
...

today the small birds
have flown from my poem;
the ones that wanted to be silver;
...

shall I with my new minted paperbacks disappear
in the maple leafed shining of the year
the gate through which we speed
...

can you be in a maze this thick and this deep
and still wind your way without panic
without the darting flight
...

[to my Grandmother, Lucy W. Young]

I remember the pages of light
where the leaves shadow scattered-
...

small candies I have hid around the house
in case of sudden emergencies.
and in the hollows of trees
...

the small giraffe, (figurine) :
dozed amid towering roses-
froze in his spot and yet still wondered
...