by Richard Vince
Freshly torn foil flows between
Fields of scattered, sparkling diamonds
As I wind my way along
Between back garden fences
And bright young leaves,
Awakening to greet the April Sun
As it defines distant buildings
And plane trails far above.
How glad I am that I have foregone
My usual Saturday morning slumbers
To join my fellow drowsy, dry eyed
Travellers to enjoy this hopeful morning.
The fields are slowly returning to life
After another winter in suspended animation,
And I too feel something awakening
Somewhere inside my soul;
My mind's eye reopening, saving me
From internal blindness.
Colours are still pale in the south
As eastwards I head, then south to
That hazy city I love to hate
But have somehow managed to miss.
Somehow, the morning has a way of
Bringing joy to people like
Nothing else can. Even though
My eyes remain intent on closing,
My heart flutters every time
I glance skywards, and I feel
That ever more familiar tightness
In my throat as the beauty of it all
Causes tears to edge closer to my eyes.
I realise now that I am deciduous;
That now is the time for me
To blossom, and for my new leaves
To burst forth and catch
The celestial light of a new day.
Posted on 04/25/2004
Copyright © 2022 Richard Vince