In October (Final Version) Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

so has the soul found itself lost among the green and golds of
fading summers so as to hear only the soughing of the wind
the ragged viola
of the beginning and the end and yet that is Christ's name too
Alpha and Omega, the distances of harps, the span of violins
so has the soul found itself to be reasoning not;
yet cherished
a drift of pale lemon across a violet sky
exiled on earth turning inward
turning inward as the day was long
and the glittering frosts, all early.
this is autumn and the end of days
formerly as they were spent though
not of music though you cannot tell
where it all went giddy as the leaves
departing suddenly
leaving the branches to grieve
so the soul has shed gold, peach gold and time,
its stash of crimson, roses or clouds
but still, not music.not music, at all.

mary angela douglas 27 october 2021; 15 april 2023