The Dreams Of Departure, The Signs Of Going Away Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

the dreams of departure, the signs of going away
breathed Spring in a winter forest, gold
on a so-so day;

as though set on jeweled rails
the time of going away, the harvest through,
the grain under moonlight stored

in the silos of no doom
and the bright gesture circled
as if on a map.

and praise is due in the hour of going away
when the train comes through
and you, with your mysterious luggage

and still starry eyed,
board.

mary angela douglas 16 july 2016