Easter

The garden - Sunrise

It is early morning and the sun
is slowly rising on my garden.
Golden pink. Silver. Green. Gentle blue.
Cold morning mist. Warmth strokes my head.
I watch the stream slipping past the garden shed,
slithering like a long silver snake,
and sliding past the hoe and spade and rake
left leaning against the silent shed.
Silently the stream snakes its way
over the rugged rockery until tossed away
around the weeping willow and the sunflowers,
past fragrant mauve lavender and yellow herbs.
The early morning fragrance of fresh earth
fills the air and hints of exciting new birth
with all the possibilities of a new day.
The blackbird trills away in the apple tree.
Bluetits and sparrows and great tits
are fighting on the bird table and I see
a hungry kestrel hovering overhead
watching a small mouse drinking
at the stream. A kingfisher darts down,
stealing fish from the silver ripples.
Slowly the silver stream slides on.
steaming in the ever-warming sun,
streaming, twinkling as it flows
on past the pansies. Watering as it goes-
the fruit trees. Raspberries. Runner beans.
A kindly stream that gently showers
water over both weeds and flowers.
Thorns and thistles and brambles
are freshened as the stream rambles
through my garden into my neighbour's.
All feels fresh and new and beautiful.
The stream shimmers on, reflecting
the power of the newly risen sun,
Even as I stand refreshed, reflecting
on God's Risen conquering Son.