Transcriptions (For The Piano) Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

these transcriptions of a bridal sky

where cliffs of pearl drop off into silence

and the clouds float with the moon



woven through an infinite loom

I have woven too,

in my fashion



these transcriptions

shading unto rose;

into the rose gold of a script so



calibrated, it has to be May with her gardenias

or April at the very least that it may be

music and never cease



with the treble of stars;

the sense that where you are

you will always be



nostalgic for the evenings

and the breeze itself



the souvenir now of what you felt then

passing the white flowering trees

passing the turbulence of the spring violins



at the conservatory and in the twilight practice hour



when everything has flowered and is blue

unto the perilous beauty of the Unseen;

the peridotal fragments gleaming into emerald



and everything is jeweled and all at once

it's Heraclitean; it's the fairy tale in its

kaleidoscopic phase



through the grass lightly you slip

through all your days;



younger than then

in the morning, mourning dew,

the pale birds flown.



mary angela douglas 6 october 2019