The End Of Weather As We Knew It (Final Version) Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

you will say suppressing a smile
I am speaking about the news on earth
but that is not the point at all
I mean the inner weather from our birth
how it shifts across the violet skies time lapsed;
how its migrating birds arise.
and boils up in its own particular last ditch summers
and when it snows there it is a pearl edged ensign in the skies
composed of such intricate ballets
the soul never grows tired of enacting them.
the end of weather as we knew it has arrived.

the pinkish amber of mornings now disclose
you breathe, but not steadily, in faint rose;
so many paths are overgrown with vines
so many trees pruned back in Time too far
unblossoming
beside unrecognizable housing.
beauty sleeps pulled back from the brink;

we are at the end of weather as we knew it
the clarion autumns understand
leaf by leaf the life that was gold we are leaving
for something not at our command;
metamorphosis
that ultimate sleight of hand.

yet hope for life renewed is a fountaining tree;
the far off bells calling us to a life without forecasts at all.
when, by degrees we start to imagine an infinite freedom.
instead of which we are taking the last flight Home
to bargain with the partially uncaged soul.

mary angela douglas 29 october 2021; 14 april 2023