Tears of awe

(Stepping softly / into the morning / a blackbird calls / bandaged in silence / I weep – by Peter Wilkin )

Tears of awe

A momentary lapse within this perfect stillness

the silence of dawn broken open with daylight.

A soft breeze of an outward breath strokes

the dew coated fields, sending waves across

this chartreuse ocean landscape. Flowing manes

of grasses bow with gracefully synchronicity

carrying this moment in all its raw cut energy.

It does not pause for tiles, tarmac or concrete

passing ethereal unobserved beyond closed

doors and minds. Slipping silently into the waters

aquamarine tinted, topped with foaming heads

washing up onto the shore, turning pebbles

greenish-blue with glazed sunlight. Slowly rising

upwards in the milky morning mist, it whispers

onto the lowland hills below the southern star.

I stand inside my mother’s garden memory

listening to the song, a melodious fluted warble

perfectly low-pitched, sung with all the love

only living can bring. I can taste the saline

rivulets that are flowing from these tears.


9 responses to “Tears of awe

  1. This is simply beautiful, Abi ~ & I feel so privileged that a scattering of my words have facilitated such a wonderful, moving & meaningful poem. Thank you ~*

  2. Wow!!! Peter Wilkin’s wonderful words have inspired many a time; but to soar to such soft poise, flow and creative portrayal, needs poet of superior class. to refer back to words is not enough, as mere words do not deliver the essence that the whole read delivers. This quality lifts this poem to a new high. A wonderful experience indeed.

    • I am almost lost for words at such a wonderful comment!

      You are the second person to floor me with such a wonderful response to this poem today, I really truly appreciate you taking the time to both read and comment in such a way.

      Just a huge thank you 🙂

  3. What incredible atmosphere you’ve created here, Abi. Truly, the pictures you’ve painted here are simply epic and the whole is flooded with such deep feeling…


  4. I feel a bit of a voyeur into your tears for a mother who was obviously beyond dear to you. That part made me cry.

    This really is an outstanding write in so many ways. The ocean, the sea of grass. The closed doors and minds. I am not moved in a good way by many poems, but this one sure did. Thank you.

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