After

After the weeks of wind and rain,

this tender stillness imbues the air;

like a lover’s first kiss that is full of promise.

The first Spring trees are in delicate bloom,

and catch the heart by surprise on quiet back streets.

Walking along I see the little gardens

come into their own; where

snow drops fade and now daffodils,

those eager clarions,

and tulips, grape hyacinths and crocuses

are in bud and flower.

Dusk falls, enchanted time.

I am returned to childhood wonder,

when I had no thought for my self,

no sense of sorrow.

As I heard the little babbling stream,

beside the old, cobbled roads,

in my grandmother’s small town,

passed under shadowy bridges,

felt the stars arching above me,

the hills fading into the night.

And my childish heart brimmed with a quiet exaltation.

And life contained me.

The dusk, the night, the early mornings,

the walks on upland fields

and into the wood’s beckoning mystery.

After the weeks of wind and rain,

this tender stillness imbues the air;

like a lover’s first kiss that is full of promise.

 

 

 

 

 

© Ingrid Andrew<>HeartsSong

 

 

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