Snow Maid The Page Before April Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

I have vanished she said
in the miasmic, splendor
of the autumn day

maple leaves pinned to
the dress of the winds
all friends disappearing, disappeared

and I have counted the candle years
as though they could not burn down
in this blue shawl

that folds to snows.
where shall I go, will You defend
softly I ask

the Maker at Land's End.

stars are melting into the angelic
and I have no poems left

mary angela douglas 7 january 2016