This is the day –

leaves dance in spring-wind,
                      the flowers
sit and sway and calm the street.
           The still-point-petals line the garden;
brick-walls gleam and fence-posts stand
           attentive to the silent day.

The day hums in rest;
                      the hearers
sit in garden, music in their
           unsure ears, shy before unfolding yawn.
Radiator-bars warm, the slow
           sun as yet contained in veil.

This is the day, the
                      thankful day.
Birdsong twines with road-work buzz;
           dazzled life wanders in dancing patterns.
Inattentive workers, pause:
           rejoice now and be glad.

Published by Matthew Pullar

Teacher, writer, blogger, husband, father, Christian. Living in Wyndham in Melbourne's west, on the land of the Kulin Nation. Searching for words to console and feed hearts and souls.

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