A Child's Garden Of Christmas Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

there it was always snowing
tasting like cream
like the sheen of things not said yet-

presently, poems
not read yet
held in the heart

glowing bulbs
of the pristine red green
blue orange violet

shimmering to be seen
when the Tree is brought
inside the house

and tinseled.
and missing its star-friends
overhead.

but it's shining,
roped with gold, with apples
dropped down from dream clouds

or the attic
whose creaking ladder
scares you a little-

and this is their scenery
(the clouds, I mean)
and this is where we kneel

the angels inside of us
heralding
the bells ringing like stars

mary angela douglas 16 october 2015