The Changing Of The Sun - Poem by william upton
The most gorgeous day of Spring
Walking next to me on the Miracle Mile,
Sunday morning stroll to the house of the Lord.
With no clouds in the blue sky, there is something unusual-
Something breathtaking inside the silent sun-drenched morning.
Not a human sound within this still colored water painting
Only the distant chirping of the birds who have become jazz masters,
Participating in this virtual tour of Monet's still life.
Hush-you can hear your own breathing competing with
Nature's complete standstill of all components.
The garden of eternity lies before -so perfect and so quiet...
A reverence in her atmosphere.
Church services end as they usually do
With souls enriched in Grace and hearts full of joy.
The return walk home still retains the magnificent silent snapshots
Captured like lightning in a bottle-still fresh, still alive.
Back home the door opens to a menacing 'one missed call' on the phone.
Suspicious curiosity wonders who would call at the early break
Of Sunday's blissful entrance..
It would seem that someone was missing the invitation
To the morning's impromptu garden party.
At 11 0'clock the voice on the message struck
Like a sledgehammer strikes an anvil,
Echoing the unbearable grief of a brother losing his brother...
Announcing his passing.
I took a breath to speak but no words came out.
The rays of the once brilliant sunshine had vanished,
Leaving behind the shadow of this magical meadow.
For one brief moment, Mother Nature blinked.
Comments about The Changing Of The Sun by william upton
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.