The Seventh Dimension Of Trees Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

here in the riffraff afternoon,
the one you said you wanted to see
come soon,

leaves fold their colours into
the seventh dimension of trees.
it is their particular kingdom

and we are just tourists there;
though you stood under the tree
letting go of all its leaves

simultaneously; the maple
red in the way no crayon
could ever be

except when it dreamed.
I wonder if it was you that stashed
the blueprints for these blue

hazed days; the ones where the starlight hides
because it is so frightened of the speed

it is destined to travel
and won't come out like a child
still hide and seek.

mary angela douglas 6 november 2015