Saints Leave On The Wind They Say Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

Saints leave on the wind they say
The fragrance of lilies
Heaped up roses
In my sere garden
The curled maple leaf blows
Never again to reach the Tree
That gave it life but I try not to be
Desultory
Let red gold flame
In a momentary wind
Circuitous toward Heaven
Let us be lily of the valley
Gladness
The blue and gold we were
Like a vestment we once wore.
That now is scattered everywhere
In the infinity of afternoon.
mary angela douglas 11 july 2024