What Kind Of Connoisseur Of Beauty Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

What kind of connoisseur of beauty
Are you Lord God
Who made flowers to slip from April trees
And only from the slightest breeze
As if they were flower snow
And cause poets through all ages
To write poems from heartache
At the fragility of it all
The passing wonder
May we pass into Your Courts
And sleep our flower sleep in You
Past all the winters.
To bloom again
This time, without fading.
mary angela douglas 5 may 2024