In Early April Poem by Daniel Brick
In Early April
We had kept all our promises, some
as old as the child dancing
between us on our walk, others as fresh
as the dew still clinging to the grass,
wet and shining. With my right
hand I pointed to yellow chimney
smoke floating freely high above
the treeline at the lake shore, while
my left hand explored the middle
space, just above the child's head,
seeking your right hand, swaying
like a censer spraying lilac scent,
our favorite, into the Sunday air.
Our hands clasped, and your touch was
soft like lilac breath. We went
forward to hear bells chiming
across the water, the child skipping
ahead, squealing with delight, and we
felt a quieter delight unfold and swell:
we recognized within a single thought,
this is how easy falling in love can be.
We passed the half-way bend of the path.
I smiled as you nodded, over the child's
head, toward a huge funnel of clouds
rising slowly into a pale blue sky.
And it seemed to drag the day along
with it, as if a summons from Heaven
had actually fallen to Earth after all
these decades of silence. Oh, the promise
that was fulfilled at that moment
fell into its destined place! Your right
hand held my left hand, the child chattering
between us, the lilac-sweet air tumbling
between us, and deep down, where heart
and soul are neighbors, we were dizzy
with the yellow joy of early April.
This poem is presented - as you usually do - so freshly and vividly, like a screen before the readers' eyes. A lovely, heart-warming poem!
i sometimes get confused if' narratives' or description or poems have sort plot be called poem/ poetry? yet we have anthologies of such poetical genre... i read American or new poetey and find what Virginia Woolf called it ' stream of consciousness'. Ashbury, Bukowski, Whitman, etc. so poor sometimes to be a reader...lolx and i like April any way
deep down, where heart and soul are neighbors, we were dizzy with the yellow joy of early April - beautiful!
Hi, Daniel! I’m here exploring earlier poems of yours. I like the warm, the pleasant recollection in this as in other poems of yours. I’m reminded, as I’m sure are others, of the significance or weight of (not so) little things like a touch or gesture. I like and relate to the yellow joy of April in the closing line. -Glen
felt a quieter delight unfold and swell: ....................reminds me of 'inflating' butterfly wings and flower blossoms. it seems the child drew back or you two surged forward, or something. ;) a delightful poem on this September day. it shall have a place in my/our Section B of September 2016's showcase for PH poets. when i read funnel i got a bit concerned that you might be hit by a cyclone/tornado. but no, thank goodness. THAT could have ruined the day. bri :)
I find myself completely caught up in this poem, delighted. Oh yes, this is the way it ought to be be. But I am haunted by the yellow chimney smoke and the 'funnel of clouds / rising slowly into a pale blue sky, ' and I realize how fragile, how tentative, how temporary (amid 'these decades of silence') and how precious such experiences are. The images that will linger with me, refreshing me from time to time, are promises 'as fresh / as the dew still clinging to the grass' and the hands 'swaying / like a censer spraying lilac scent, / our favorite, into the Sunday air.'
I could visualize your rambling with someone whose company you cherish in the April month with the smell of Lilacs in the air. Lilacs are harbingers of Spring and the purple Lilacs smbolize the sprouting of the earliest emotions of love! 'Your touch was was soft like lilac's breath' indicates that love is in the air! Enjoyed this picturesque poem!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 1:15:33 AM # 1.0.0.1119
It's so sweet, Daniel! Fulfilled promises!