Starting Gate Redux Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

what if we thought of ourselves at the start of the race

not in the last hour

what if we dreamed ourselves into the buds


not yet the flowers

seems like a trick of the mind a mind at play

some may say. and turn away.


I think that it might work

to tell the mind there's so much more

for you to find on earth


to see and to be

to find your place in the mystery ever shifting

ever gathering stardust in the whirlwinds.


let's try. not to rust.

or turn too early into dust.

to find ourselves again

lost in the morning skies.


mary angela douglas 17 april 2020; rev.16 may 2020