Wakeful Peace Under Shining in the Sky
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
The morning April dawns, the force of March
Prepares to fade. A quietude so faint
That it is silent, unheard, starts to arch
Its way across the trees and then to paint
Their limbs with promises, with buds of leaves
And blossoms. Wordless, whisperless, this force
Is restless in tranquillity. It heaves
So gentle in its wielding to endorse
The spring, the sister of this silence, when
The branches set their swelling nodes, that ears
Cannot presume to hear such power, and then
The swellings come like joy in bridal tears.
The tendernesses, weak as blossoms are,
Still nonetheless glow sure as April’s star.
~ Phillip Whidden