Is This The Day?

Summer rose from shadow dreams
Breathed a sigh of early sun
like so many summers gone

I wrestled with a dream routine
Coiled and sank and surfaced
sank and surfaced and again

Blundered to my heart's abode
stumbled in my thickest thoughts
Flew and ran and stumbled overmore
and wondered when or even whether
stillness, silence, would they ever
rest with me and even stay

Ever? If not today?

Yet born of mini effort was a hope
leaping as a lamb needless of reason
remembering a steady sky
to garland every season
A poem without end or author

Newly then that Grace
implied a Father in a child's face
while passing on a common road
and stillness was no more a place
to my eyes forever barred
but gambolled in my own back yard

Yes, this is the day
for whom I have been born
for which I wear a signal smile
for when I find a little more
for trying in a few more ways
like so many other days

Sumangali Morhall
May 2005

Photograph by Prashphutita