Angels Churning The Butter Brickle On The First Day Of School Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

angels are churning the butter brickle
you think to yourself in the shaded room
and Christmas is wavering uncertain

where the door is of my homeroom
so I'll wear red and green
to school tomorrow...maybe the plaid.

nightlights in the dark
are mellow like moonlight
moonlight near the floor is making you sad

where the vents blow the warm air
always in tune
and the toys sleep wistfully

long past noon
all-knowing that soon
their guardians will depart

into the Christmas ornamented

dark
where the bus is waiting
and the next grade up.

mary angela douglas 29 march 2016