I, Fresh With Miracles Like The Grass Bedewed Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

I fresh with miracles like the grass bedewed
Oh that I could warble the skies into orchid,
Snows, the pearlescent where
All quiet grows
And find shelter in my own construction,
Dream oh dream the mariners cried
On the ancient oceans
And I heard them
Fathoms below my soul's surface
And keep in silence still
For all I know
The pale green vigil
I knew long ago
At home, under the summer trees.
mary angela douglas 19 july 2024