Ghosts Around The Altars (With Chrysanthemums) Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

will they remember that we were here?
their voices soughed around old houses
growing farther than this, away,

into deeper mists, try to remember this
that once we played near the shade trees
venerable, even then-

trees they are loping down now
and the branching shadows
to make way for whatever it is

they are always making way for.

then, let there be ghosts of trees
said the drizzling winds
I brushed aside

fearing their tears.
let there be ghosts of roses, grasslands, sun motes,
ghosts of years.

ghosts of brides
and of their rhinestoned shoes.

soon too soon will you
no longer long for your place in the Scheme,
the coach lined with green silk and the

plumed horses;
all landmarks having vanished with their
gleams

where the wind has gone.

mary angela douglas 10 october 2015