Resurrection Morning
Poem
Beyond open windows, behind trees,
He stands, feeling the green wind
Touch the fine-etched leaves.
Sun flings new-day shadows,
Moving the dim lake to sing
Psalms with hands stroking the joy-wood.
A blind worm lifts its head,
And a lily proffers a petal
From its leafy bed to the sky’s warmth.
Energy pulses in his wrists
Like air beating the clouds
Where thunder cracks and lingers
At the bend of earth and sky.
In his hand the lily is lamb-soft
As a sigh before he ascends.