Was I By The Ochre Or The Rubied Trees Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

was I by the ochre and the rubied trees
underneath the skies of silken grey?
I wonder, was it real and if, in feeling

should I go back
and hear the crackle of leaves
beneath my feet

on a walk at evening
near my old schools as I
and they were then

until it is too cool to be outside

and I'll walk back
alone as I longed to be and as I was
latched into my own mind

and dream at my window

having read Rilke for the first time
outside of the school assignments
or Dante, The Paradiso, by Ciardi

with no one recommending him to me;
perhaps, the Unseen or unseen angels
and with the light snow falling

before the lamplight
so that you could see
it was snowing at night

though it had just begun
and I or was it I
have opened the window

entirely so that the snow decked
winds come through,
the few leaves remaining.

I am the only one remembering that autumn;
I was the only one there.

mary angela douglas 18 august 2016