The Hidden Things With Secret Wings Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

the hidden things

with secret wings

have taken refuge

in a small way, with me

so that I float when they do

or appear to

barely visible in the photograph

of a wright brothers' early experiment

or sigh, sprightly arise

when they arise

one pouf of a rose petal

on a frost grided sky;

or berry stained.

how will you make your money

how will you spend your time

the earth is always turning

on such an ephemeral dime.

I fill out the dream queries

never minding the lack of replies

only God in his mysteries

crackles the new found spells

while I make dollish masterpieces

from gilded acorn shells.

mary angela douglas 28 december 2022; rev.2 february 2023