EASTER MORNING

[Gabrielle Dean]

EASTER MORNING IN WALES - David Whyte 

A garden inside me, unknown, secret,

neglected for years,

the layers of its soil deep and thick.

Trees in the corners with branching arms

and the tangled briars like broken nets.

 

Sunrise through the misted orchard,

morning sun turns silver on the pointed twigs.

I have woken from the sleep of ages

and I am not sure

if I am really seeing, or dreaming,

or simply astonished

walking toward sunrise

to have stumbled into the garden

where the stone was rolled from

the tomb of longing.

Debbie’s golden banksias