He Keeps The Stencils Of The Living Day Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

He keeps the stencils of the living day
the crimsons and the evergreens
the snow washed opals o vast expectation,

feelings on the eve
where time cannot squander,
eat away the edges of the gemstoned stollen
ways, the giddy sleds and sleighs the

bells glazing deep silences.
hushed between the wars we find
He is reborn.not on straw or in bleak cold but within

our secret cherishing, rubied caroling cradled
brightness of brightness all else, concealing.
there is no praise of angels we won't find

burnishing the clouds as in old paintings
rich with his interior velvets, crownings from
afar and opulent as the multifoliate rose

long longed for, the Star enlarging the skies
that breaks our darkness and the ache apart revealing
the snowflake enterprise again

the wishes standing still
before the Gates

mary angela douglas 1 october 2014