It's Riddle Opening Onto Riddle Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

it's riddle opening onto riddle

the tributary, then the sea.

the gold flecks in the apple ridden orchards

it's what that music meant to me

the nocturnes and the barcarolles, the mockingbird

the whippoorwill calls; tilting the blinds to just reveal

the rose threaded skies...

what are you pretending now they ask me in disguise

I can hold my tongue forever

to never answer lies

it's riddle bound within the riddle

lavender lined, inside a dream

that keeps me living where all is dying

under a crystal stream

it's finding and then losing, only to find again

the circle of Light grows ever wider

in the poem that cannot end.



mary angela douglas 26 september 2020