Glory - A Psalm
Glory; abounding glory!
Glory; unending, ever assuming a shifting, beauteous face.
For weeks I have watched from these closed habitual walls
Gazing like a mariner through bowed panes
Searching for some sight of saving shore
Sagging with the weight of pain
Yet sustained by glory.
The daffodil bank I have watched, like a passing procession
Slowly spreading, flowing gold.
Each green blade unfolding its promised story
Six-petalled stanzas of infinite form
Gathered now, a collective act of praise.
And as their magic dies, for all moments are numbered,
The damson decks each branch in silken, silver dress,
And urges them to dance.
Then pear and apple put on petal blushed with pink
And join the invitation irresistible
To dance, dance, dance.
Even the magnolia,
Chastened, blighted, browned by kill-joy frost
Draws strength to bear fresh petal life.
It hovers over bluebell beds now thrusting,
Gathered where the hedgers, short-while, trod.
That was when the cast shadows fell.
Glory, abounding glory!
Unstoppable, untiring is the march of Spring
Which I, through drooping eyelids, now suck in,
Desperate to imbibe redeeming life.