Sunday, April 22, 2012

April Morning

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There is something about the morning light in April, the way it slants across the world, that catches me in my throat and makes me gasp for the loveliness of it all. This year is no different. We've had precious few days of morning sun in Oregon this year. No wonder Mark went out to capture a few photos first thing this morning, before church.



I wrote this poem about the April light several years ago. It's still one of my favorites. In one of the revisions I played with making it all into one long sentence, hence the title, which also works with the idea that we are sentenced to mortality without Christ.


 Sentence.

Quiet
on this early
April morning
the dew gathers itself
to dandelion leaves
that do not tremble 
with the weight,

and as I look
across the lawn, 
which is largely the dandelions, undesirables, 
they raise their yellow heads, shining like an anthem
transfigured
out of weediness

and all because
the dew,
drawn
to the dandelion
leaves
now pulls this
early April
sunlight,
slant-wise
across the lawn,
until the silver
light
is altered,
succumbs,
yields,

and is fractured,
refracted
into a million promises

in April, early April
that I, even I
may be
redeemed.



2 comments:

Finding My Way Softly said...

I love how the shape of the poem helps the rhythm of it.

Julia

kati said...

Beautiful