We’re taking the minimalist view of poetry for today’s “form”. We won’t be counting syllables or getting over-bearing with rhyme. Today’s “form” is the Aubade which is more theme based. The Aubade is a poem written to celebrate the dawn. A good example of this type of poem is The Sun Rising by John Donne.
SARA’S SUNRISE:
AURORA
Call her Aurora,
first light of day. She dapples
maples, and petals of roses
with drops of dew. You do not
see her; she stays behind
the scenes. Her work sings
for itself in tunes of robins,
in glee of golden finches.
Subdued at morn, dawn is pale.
Peer out your window;
your face will break
into a smile. That is her style–
a new day dawns on you.
© Sara McNulty
###
WALTER’S AWAKENING:
PERSONAL BEST
Another sunrise crests the treetops,
another day to celebrate life
expressed in words and rhymes
and at times, a song or two.
Memories of friends met and connected to,
a slew of poems to remember them,
to hold them in heart when their presence
starts to fade. A parade of word warriors
seeking to hold the flank and to thank the gods
above for the love and guidance; a space dance
of a free and easy spirit. The music of life plays,
I hear it in every rustled leaf, in the coo
of a newborn infant who can’t help but make it.
I take it as another day of life afforded to me.
I see the new dawning with fresh eyes.
It is wise to greet each brand new day,
breaking your own record; your personal best.
All the rest is purely gravy!
© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016
POETIC BLOOMINGS 
Responses
What a neat subject, and great examples.
Am going with my first thought of:
DAWN
The dawn comes quietly
slipping slowly toward day
turning off each star’s light.
Gently the breeze rocks each star to sleep
and song birds sing a star’s lullaby.
When the last star winks off,
the sun rises beyond the hills
to bring the day
🙂
such a gentle dawn. makes one feel like getting out and living in it!
:0 🙂 Come on out, the weather is fine.
Beautiful Marjory! This reads like a lullaby, and should be set to music.
Thanks Marie – if you write the music, I’ll try to sing it 😉
I’ll leave the tune to Walt, and the two of you can do a duet! 😀
What Janet says. Love the softness…
Thank you Janet, nice way to start the day
Your first thought is excellent, Marjory. And you expressed it beautifully. Great way to start us off.
Thank You, Walt always appreciate your comments.
Yes, this gentle waking is like the break of a smile on a sleepy face. Loved it Marjory.
Thank you _ I like your expression “….smile on a sleepy face.” = happy dreams and thoughts.
Gorgeous evocation of dawn.
Thank You.
Your dawn sings promises of a happy day, Marjory.
Those are the best days to have. 🙂
I am deeply enamored of this, Marjory:
“the last star winks off”
Here you are, a double whammy
Excellent combo of two prompts, Viv! Good for you!
Agree with Marie. Touching both bases with one poem is a very efficient use of you words and energy, Viv.
Viv, I loved the mirror, one day reflected but transformed the other.
Meager sunshine brings illusion of summer – A dreamy lovely thought, Viv, fitting for both prompts. Love your photos.
Really like you combo, Well done
Lovely combo!
[…] She asks us to write a farewell regretted poem, and we do regret saying goodby to her; while at Poetic Bloomings they ask for an Aubade, a dawn poem. I have combined the […]
My mind was entombed
In the dark night of my soul.
Then it dawned on me …
😉
perfect!!
Teeheehee! Thanks!
(snort!)
Perfect haiku, Marie – so creative!
Thank you!
Wonderful!
Loved it. As Janet said, perfect. Dawning minds think–and blink–alike.
Thank you! “think-and-blink-alike” makes me smile. 🙂
Perfect. I’m often slow to catch on to Jock’s jokes.
Thanks Viv! 🙂
You aced beauty with wit!
Woohoo! Thanky thanky!
Haa!
How perfectly perfect. 🙂 And how perfectly YOU.
Awww, thanks!!
So very well put.
Sara: What a lovely picture you paint with your words!
Walt: The music of life plays, indeed. Thank you, Mr. Conductor. 🙂
I like both of your poems, Sara and Walt, but I smiled at the headings as well…Sara’s Sunrise and Walt’s Awakening is er…um, brilliant!!
Walt, I really like the line ‘It is wise to greet each new day’ and Sara, LOVE the lilt of the first line ‘Call her Aurora, first light of day’!
The labels are something I try to do to change things up and stay fresh. Even as far back as when I had another co-host/partner! 😉 Thanks for your kind words, Janet!
Hoodat? 😀
Youdat! 😉
:D! Perfect comeback! 😀
Youalldat!
😀 !!
She’s alldat!
🙂
Thanks Janet!
Breath of Days
Like a grand, golden trumpet the sun heralds break of day
Beneath heaven-set timing zephyr-violinists play
The birth of time’s fresh offspring fills the hills of earth with praise
As all creation sings a hymn to the Maestro of days
The table on the east lays out its feast of daily Bread
The poor and rich alike are at the mercy of time’s Head
The wise will recognize Love’s grace that grants the sacred ‘yes’
That lights the day that lights the way that none have traveled yet
The crimson lily blushes and the brook in yonder mead
Like pink platinum ribbon binds the green bank to its thread
The woodland bursts with jubilee where feather-throated throng
Without a care gild dawn’s young air with nature’s purest song
How lovely is the hope that spills beyond the reach of earth
Save in the prayer that climbs the air that chimes with virgin birth
Ah, holy, holy, holy brims from lowly hearts of men
Where Hallelujah overflows time’s cup of woes again
Wow. Splendid.
thank-you:)
How lovely!
This is so beautifully written, Janet! I am soothed by your message and join in your Hallelujah!
Yes. Wow. I began to copy and paste my favorite lines, but I would have ended up with nearly the entire hymn pasted here. And yes, I say “hymn,” because that is how it reads to me. You simply need the notes. Walt?
This is truly, truly wonderful.
thank-you all for your kind words:)
Awesome rhythm that had me ‘breathing’ this as I read it, my heartbeat ‘singing’ it till the crescendo at ‘holy, holy, holy’ — where I felt myself sit down humbly in the perfectly stated rest with that last line. Worshipful.
A masterly poem, flowing rhythmically towards the day.
Janet, this poem glides along smoothly, because the language flows that way. Uplifting.
Oh, heavens.
OH. HEAVEN.
You had me at the title, really. Goodness.
Janet, so lovely –beneath heaven set timing zephyr-violinists play and
Without a care gild dawn’s young air–such a creative image–young air! Love it 🙂
SUNNY-SIDE UP
An eggshell dawn cracked across the heavens,
Infusing morning clouds with new-day gold.
Rising early from sleep, storm-tossed from dreams,
We sip hot coffee on the back porch deck
And marvel at the rays of yellow high roads
Streaking like gifting fingers from the sun.
How good it is to be alive, you say,
To once again witness God’s Creation.
We are blessed. Coffees at rest, we hold hands
While high above us birds flock a halo
Around the brow of the rising jewel.
#
You drew me right onto your deck with your beautiful words. Truly gifted.
Convincing – “how good it is to be alive…”
Absolutely. Wonderful, Sal.
A perfect setting to witness the Perfection of Creation. Thank you, Salvatore!
Sal, your moment with dawn is infused with a joyful contentment.
First line and last are pure sweetness and beauty. Lovely, Sal.
Sal, so very lovely to be reading your words again. 🙂
I’m all egg today, too. 😉
LOVE this!
Unfortunately I can’t get these to hold their formatting.
A Bit of Sriracha Red
Earth turned and faced the sun, like
lovers turn into each other’s arms –
morning hung light with clouds deep
as thickest sleep, while the horizon
ruptured into a silver fleck,
like a trout I once saw, it spun that
same silver flash — coaxed by light
and slipped away into my shadow.
But this sunrise had no Sriracha-ruby hue,
no awe-struck dawn; just an honest, modest
start of day, bright rightness in the air.
.
There are more at https://foundlines.wordpress.com/2016/05/25/a-bit-of-sriracha-red/
Love the hues!
I love this poem, Marilyn. I went to your site to try and emulate your formatting here. I hope you don’t mind.
Thank you, and of course I don’t mind. I’d love to know how you did it though!
Misky, I think you can do it with that span style code
It didn’t work. I tried that initially, and when it posted, all the code was stripped out of it.
I’ll look into it and see if there is an answer, Marilyn.
It might be a markup issue that needs enabling in comments. Maybe.
Barbara is correct. But as administrator, I have editing capabilities, so that was the route I took.
“… like lovers turn into each other’s arms” … *sigh* …
Love ‘bright rightness.’ Beautiful Misky…
“Bright rightness” def a good thing.
Always. Unlike winter when you have to turn all the lights on.
I was really pulled in by your opening lines, Misk.
Thank you!
Oh Misky, love the turn like lovers and silver flash!
DELIGHTED by this spicy dawn.
Oh! You had me with the opening. And then the surprise ending:)
Dawn. For not being a morning person, it’s one of my favorite topics.
.
DAY DREAMS
Dusk is the threshold
to the dawning of new dreams.
Dawn is the opportunity
to make those new dreams a reality.
Sounds like you have it covered from dusk to dawn, Paula. And I thought you weren’t a Monday person…
love it!
Yes!
Oh, this is perfect! Love the contrast and the mood you create. Not “contrast.” That’s not the word. I’ve lost the word. 😦
*tap tap tap*
CORRELATION! There it is. 😀
Paula, you’ve made dawn a perfect door to possibility here. Like this.
A great philosophy.
I am not a morning person either, but appreciate your view of dawn’s possibilities.
NICE. Pithy goodness, as usual, Paula.
AUBADE
All night long, the sea rocks a weary sun
to sleep – her red head that slips
onto his lap at the end of her
day’s work rests wrapped
in his wavy arms.
But as blackness gives way,
the sea pushes a fired-up sun
to her star potential, and I revel
at the ways she runs her young rays
through his new blueness in gratitude.
~ Nurit Israeli
My first chance to say “Welcome Home!” to you Nurit. And you did return in great fashion with this Aubade!
I have always found your prompts to be particularly tempting, Walt, and though time has become a scarce commodity, this prompt was kind of irresistible (used the breaks between patients to indulge…) Thanks so much for the warm welcome. Truly appreciated!
Oh, Nurit … “the sea rocks a weary sun to sleep” … what an image and interpretation. This sets the tone of your lovely poem, and you never slip from it. WONDERFUL.
Marie, your supportive, generous, insightful feedback is our gift! Thank you for being the special person that you are.
Oh my. *blush blush* ❤
Every line a masterpiece!
Thank you very much, Janet!
Nurit, I love the idea of the sea being parent (that’s how I first read it) to the child sun, or the sun being nurtured by the lover sea (on my second read). Beautiful.
Thank you, Damon, for your careful reading and insightful comment. Interestingly enough, I didn’t even see the mother when I wrote the first stanza, only the lover. Perhaps there are overlaps…
Beside the sea is the perfect spot for an aubade, and yours is lovely.
Thanks, Viv. The sea is my anchor…
This is magnificent.
Thank you, Misky!
I love the image of a red head that slips onto his lap at the of her days work. I am so pleased that you are planting here again.
Thanks for the warm welcome, Sara!
Love the curve of this, in both shape and language. Wonderful.
Thank you, De, for seeing – I see no angles in the sea-sun give-and-take, just a continuous smooth flow…
Nurit this is fabulous! I love how you twined the sea and sun together. So vivid. And very smile-worthy 😃
Thanks so much, tswords! I am in awe of the sea-sun interactional patterns…
Forgot to mention that “star potential” is brilliant!
Thanks for seeing the double meaning, tswords!
Radiant
R esplendent birth of morning sun
A nd appearing now in shining light
D azzling diamonds in the dew
I n my backyard, not just a few
A brilliant display of common weeds
N ew dandelions spreading seeds
T hen they dull as sun proceeds
A true master at these acrostic poems, Connie! Your “Radiant” is truly brilliant!
Yes, I agree!
Ah Connie! Brilliant indeed!
Agree with Walt, you have mastered the art of acrostic.
Clever, Connie!
wonderful!
Break of Day
“Break of Day,” we say –
And let me weigh in on that.
Or not,
For if the scales tip further,
They may break with the day.
Oh let not bright sun shine on or gossipy dawn ever whisper what numbers my bathroom scales reveal! 😦
Oh, you make me smile! So good to hear your creative/poetic self again … even in your comments. Hugs across that seven acre sky of yours!
A true Marie-ism – Smirky, but with genuine heart! Short and sweet.
Awww! Thanks 🙂
Clever, Marie!
You clever lady, you. Goodness. 😉
Thank you, ladies!!
life is too short to be weighed in lbs.!!
🙂
You have such a wonderful wit. 😃
Thank you so much! I’m not sure who you are, “Daughter,” but I just clicked on your site. Oh my goodness, you have been through so much heartache, and your words are strung so creatively and beautifully. It is an honor to meet you and receive your kind comment here. I look forward to following your work. Will be in prayer …
Love your pearls of wisdoms, Marie!
Thank you, Nurit. That means a great deal coming from one so wise as you. ❤
My time to blush, dear Marie… 💓
❤
Walt and Sara, loved your offerings and honors to this magic time of day.
Here’s one from a moment Tuesday morning on Lucas Pond…
Kayak Dawn
A waning moon,
white fading spot,
lopsided,
hangs above the lake’s west bank,
relents.
Green pines that line the levee
gradually glow in golden hues,
and seem to spread their limbs
to catch the warm.
I cast my line skyward,
toward the lowering orb.
In a slow descending arc
my bait flies, and falls,
and the silent splash it makes
sends shimmering circles back to me.
I shiver,
for the sun behind me
is kissing my neck,
as the kingfisher rattles
his morning song.
(c) Damon Dean 2016
These images are striking, Damon. Visual and aural, a treat for the senses. Well done!
agreed! this line needed an instant re-read, slow.
I cast my line skyward,
toward the lowering orb…
A picture painted vividly, Damon.
YES.
oh, YES. Kayaking is one of my favorite things on the planet. I absolutely love this.
Damon, Wow. What breathtaking images, I was right next to you, casting a line too. Absolutely beautiful.
Who better to pen a poem of dawn than our Seven Acre Sky? GORGEOUS, my friend.
Thanks friend.
This beautiful poem is so visual – I feel I am riding on the kayak too, seeing the sights, hearing the sounds… Love the musicality and the images!
Pink
I was snoozing while watching TV late last night,
while the talking heads were doing their newsy-ish thing. Headily somatic.
A sliver of silvery moonlight
(or maybe it was just my neighbor’s backyard motion sensors)
awakened me: Why? It shone really bright.
Regardless, (because sleep, perchance…) I fell back into a deep slumber
until bits of pink and rose peeked through the vertical blinds, like a dancing sprite.
I opened my eyes, and hoped the magic might last. Headily chromatic.
But the rising sun changed hues, in its usual morning rite.
###
Really Randi. The luminescence of television static or the neighbor’s motion detector pales in comparison to the “real deal”. I see the stages of pink apparent and that makes this poem shine even more!
I love the peeking bits of pink and rose.
RJ, you are such a master of language, and tone. I love this.
Isn’t she, though? My goodness! (And “newsy-ish pins it. 🙂 )
love it! esp. the last line!
Loved the contrasts of groggy perception and bright slivers of light, RJ. Diametrical play on light and consciousness.
Randi – in awe of your talent. You do amazing things with words…
Context
When I was young we’d visit dawn.
It lived in the hills east of Kentucky Lake.
We’d drive to my grandmother’s, visit, sleep
a few hours, drive through stars to the water.
A little boat, we’d cut across the slow darkness,
a trembling experience. The deep buoys, lit
white for the barge-pushers. Cold droplets, wind
of our passage, and the unaccustomed hour.
The sky lowered before sunrise, became
a ceiling and the stars, anomalies.
Frogs would become birds, heron silhouettes
for the sun to rise behind. A mauve room.
Dawn was a candle between knotty hills,
a little gesture, disappearing into daylight.
Goodness. I just want to swim in THIS:
“drive through stars to the water.”
Oh Barbara. your imagery displays he wondering awe of childhood observation in this. Love it, especially “Dawn was a candle between knotty hills…”
BARBARA!!! Oh man do I love seeing your work out here again! And what a return. There is a familiarity in this piece. Something that strikes my childhood heart and warms it. When words can do that, we call it poetry. And LOVE your final thought in this. Warm smiles to you.
A tremendous view of dawn, Barbara. A great story. And the image of the candle burns brightly! Welcome Back.
Smiles
And thanks for setting the poem right.
Not a problem. The problem lies in that your friend Quickly slipped right past me with several prompts. She’s so unpredictable! It’s like you were cut out of the same fabric! 😉 (And I have a special page set up for these called “IWriteQuickly” I need to catch up!
Dawn was a candle between knotting hills- what a unique thought. Lovely poem, Barbara.
Late to the party. 😉
Following by email now, in hopes of staying caught up.
Aubade with a Broken Song
The day’s got yolk
on her face again, all orange
yellow sun-splotched and watched
by gossipy doves, first loves
who wish they’d slipped away
while the sky was still a scrim.
There’s a slim chance
she’ll voice herself in full
(voice herself a fool)
today, syllable her way to
more than maybe
but less than silence.
She slants. She rants
in crimson dress, her early
light rays laser sharp and
pleading. She’s reading
the moon
(the stars, the indigo sky)
the riot act, the how and why
and where
–withal of wandering.
She’s done
squandering her gifts
and bearing busheled light,
fighting back the dark.
She’s on fire,
one unspoken
broken spark.
I was scrolling down to try and post and read just those last lines and said to myself–that has to be De! I was write 😉
Yes. She is unmistakable! And on fire!
one of a kind spectacular!!!
Very true!
And I absolutely adore this poem! Just saying!
De, could feel the morning sky’s struggle to come fully awake here! Loved it.
I keep reading that beginning over and over. It still amazes me!
Stunning images (as always), De!
*sigh*
Oh to write like this…
[…] Prompted by Poetic Bloomings. We’re writing aubades. Come […]
She’s Glowing
(an Aubade)
I will abide
by the edges
of night
Watching white blue
tinge
my horizon
And wake the greens
of grass and trees
She’s glowing now
to light my path
and twinkle dew
drops
While the dogs
see-saw
their leashes
stop-sniff, stop-sniff
So much delight
with a simple
break of night
Oh! That first line:
“I will abide by the edges of night” — stunning!
And that stop-sniff, stop-sniff.
Love that line too! also this…
And wake the greens
of grass and trees
and
So much delight
with a simple
break of night
A Beaut all the way through. Almost makes me wish it was morning:)
I agree. Gorgeous in imagery.
Thank you very much!
Janet thank you, I was happy with those lines too
Thank you! I almost deleted that stop-sniff line, but it was fun 😉
The see saw of dogs’ leashes took me to the moment you shared. Loved it.
Thank you very much! So glad you enjoyed it
So much delight in this poem, Sara!
Sara, this is a wonderful poem! It plays on the simple pleasures of life we all share! I love it! (And your “tsdwords” threw me off! 😉 )
Sara? tsdwords is you? Who knew?? I’m following your tsd site now. Sooooooo impressed with your words, and did not know of the heartache you have endured. ❤
And yes, LOVE this poem and especially "I will abide by the edges of night." WOW.
Walt, I love your “parade of word warriors.” 🙂
And Sara, those last lines! Your play on words, that breaking smile. So great.
Thanks, De. We battle daily!
Thanks, De!
Earliest Morning
Cruising the coast highway
from Del Mar to points north,
the rolling Pacific, to his left as it lay.
The westernmost mountains to the right,
the shore and sand giving up the night,
not another soul yet on his road,
marveling at the complex dawn,
colors both soft and bold.
so many layers, varied tones.
Black becoming purple begetting rose,
future yellows and gold but a notion,
some time to go before the sun
took its first glimpse of the ocean.
Sunset gets all the press, he thought.
(probably due to advance sales agents)
Oh, sunset has its own virtues,
if one likes that garish kind of thing,
beach goers gathering in hoards,
oohing and aahing,
pretending to see a green flash,
quickly dispersing to watered down happy hours.
Dawn gets little notice, no great raves.
A shame, really, but also a grace, one to savor.
It might not be the same
If the marketers got a sniff of it,
folks setting alarms, out in bunches,
making it a crowded game,
flipping down their shades at the first sign of yellow,
probably adding some kind of Bloody Mary rite to it.
No, let the dawn stay hidden,
a gift for the early risers ,
like those who pull over
and write an ode to its beauty.
Oh man, Daniel! I loved this treatise on your ‘complex dawn.’ Absolutely beautiful and true, lets keep he treasure hidden… for early rising writers. .
Brilliance in writing and colors!
Superb, Daniel! I agree. Let the late bloomers wonder what the fuss is about! An ode to its beauty indeed!
*sigh* Such beauty here, and yes … a gift for early risers indeed. I spent my high school years in Naples, Florida. The sunset drew crowds to the Gulf beach (understandably so), but my favorite time was early morning. Though the sun rose on the other side of the state, its mood made its way across to me, nearly alone on the beach or the pier. Such memories. Thank you. ❤
AN AUBADE AT THE AUDUBON SANCTUARY
From pink clouds and from orange sun
the great blue heron flies to me;
it beats its wings in stately glee
as night concedes that day’s begun.
The bird asserts its right to be
for it, like Earth, is not to shun.
Pleased, it settles along the run,
a study in tenacity.
William! Welcome “home”! Glad to
See you here adding your brilliance!
Thanks, Walt. It indeed does feel like coming home. I wondered why I hadn’t seen postings from you at PA, so I started looking around. I’m glad the “garden” is being tilled again.
It was over due, and I’m feeling excited by the response. Something in this group that seems non-existant at the old stomping ground. People are here to share poetry. I like the non-competitive and supportive feel here. I cannot say I get that vibe much anywhere else any more. Not casting aspersions on Robert Lee. It just doesn’t seem the same. Plus, I’m the new “bartender” at dVerse Poetry Pub, so my slate is pretty full! Like I said, glad to see you back among us!
And the best part about POETIC BLOOMINGS is having Marie just be poet and back contributing again, not being burdened by the structure behind the curtain here. Sara has fit in beautifully and I think both her and Marie’s poetry has gained much by that change. And let’s face it, my work suffers when I don’t have my poetic partner (and BFINM) close by in some capacity!
No words. Just a thankful heart, and ❤ to you.
It is good to see your stunning rhymes again, William.
I have learned so much from you, William — you, master of rhymes…
As have we all, Nurit! He is a writing wizard! There’s magic in those words!
William, had wondered where you were… so glad to see your name and poem this morning. Love the great blue herons and your words describe his character and dignity perfectly. Esp “stately glee.”
BILL! Seeing you here makes my smile all the wider. 🙂 Love your offering, and especially “The bird asserts its right to be.” Lovely!
Walt and Sara thank you for the beautiful beginnings to inspire us. Aurora is a perfect title and I love how you played with her behind the scenes. Walt those first lines gave me a smile for the whole poem😊
Thanks Sara. Smiles are free! Always were, always will be!
MORNING HAS BROKEN
The light of day remains asleep as I am roused from slumber.
Another day beckons; beacons of light first emerge to greet me.
Morning begins on cautious feet, a new dance to the dawn.
I love this, especially “cautious feet.”
Oooooooo love this! The interplay of “cautious feet” and a “new dance” … brilliant, pard. Just brilliant.
Ok Nurit, I’ll take blushing duties now! Blush, blush!
As well you should! 🙂
AWAKENING
In the morning mists I hear a whisper,
a gentle call that lures me from my sleep.
Soft and soothing sounds; a prayer, a vesper,
the dawn of day – a piece of life to keep.
Freshness of the air is getting crisper
as I awaken, breathing life in deep.
Morning mists do bring me to discover,
there’s a brave new world outside these covers.
This piece has the soothing feel of a sonnet, in fewer lines. I’m intrigued by the use of “vesper” here.
Thanks Bill. The form is Ottava Rima. It does work beautifully with the subject matter. Vesper, although an evening prayer, is used to express the scope of a dawning of consciousness.
Oh how lovely. And what is it about morning that brings to mind a prayer? I agree. Breathe that life in deep, Walt.
You survived the darkness and awaken to the light. What would you do? I thought so! 😉
Yep. ❤
“Mary” (Entry from the journal of Mary of Magdala)
This morning
This mourning broke me.
Reality pierced my soul,
Left a gaping hole, with fears
No tears can fill.
This morning
His eyes haunted me,
As I already strained to recall
The implausible love I saw in them
Before the cross.
This morning
I longed to once again see myself –
Me as he saw me –
The me he presented to others –
Instead of the wretch I see in me.
This morning,
In darkness of mood and day,
I made my way to his tomb.
My heart and breath halted
As my eyes assaulted my senses.
This morning
He was gone.
I was even robbed of his lifeless body?
The cruelty of this was agonizing
And my wounds grew deeper still.
This morning
I wept harder and longer and deeper
Than I ever have before –
Not even at the cross, for I was too traumatized
For tears.
This morning
I saw men? Angels? Someone – something – angels –
At the head and foot where he had lain.
They asked me why I was weeping.
How could I explain such pain?
This morning
I turned and saw a man – the gardener?
He asked me the same question the angels had.
“Woman, why are you weeping?”
Once my closed throat allowed me to speak,
I begged of him, “PLEASE sir, where have you put him?”
“Mary.”
Rabboni!
This morning.
Mourning broke.
Light rose from darkness,
Spoke my name,
And I will never be the same.
© Marie Elena Good
One word. Amen! (If I did two the other would be, “Wow!”)
Thank you!!