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“Easter Sunday Morning”
The early morning choir twitters –
Chirps deep inside the dusty bushes,
accompanied by low, long mournful tones
of wheels turning against the pavement.
A hidden lemon chiffon sun brightens the sky
somewhere behind layers of melancholy mists –
softly warming the mahogany branches
of starkly naked springtime trees.
I made no special plans for today-
no periwinkle blue shoes or silken amethyst dress.
Instead, I recline on soft linen pillows
and write on ashen journal pages.
Tranquil. I listen and watch.
A gloomy opening of a hillside cave
unravels through my thoughts.
From somewhere in the Eastern world,
stories of old dreams continue to be told.
I contemplate the meaning of this day.
Lynda McKinney Lambert. Copyright, 1999 and 2013.
All rights reserved.
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