In the garden with Erik
A prose poem
The wind stirs the trees, the shrubs, the woody stems and it bids me keep quiet with its soft presence, its susurrations in silky shimmers of movement;
Steam from tea reaches upwards, whirling its way to mock summer heaven where blue skies and a bright star emerge from sporadic white covers;
Piano. Simple piano. Chords struck, the companions to single notes. Each crotchet strikes at my heart. The hammer releases a sensation of...
Calm. Melodic but mournful. It buries itself deep within me and, like discovered opal, my thoughtful essence surfaces and travels with the music, riding a griffin or Pegasus or some other beast of magic;
I have not moved but I am moved: by the wind and its playful fingers in my hair; by the notes composed by a Frenchman that lift me aloft; by the glory of the green surrounding me; by the high tweets of bright tiny feathered bullets punctuating the music of men.
To explain this? I can't.
I'm trying but I can't.
It is beyond. The beauty of this world is beyond me.
And yet, am I not part of it?
Auditory, visual, natural stimulation, hitting me - are you in there?
And I think, Yes, I am and I thank you for knocking.
About the Creator
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Comments (12)
The piano piece is hauntingly beautiful and suited the poem so well.
What a sensory experience! Wanted to be transported right into this scene! Really stunning work, Rachel! Wouldn't have the first idea how to go about a prose poem, I have poor balance
I love the line I have nit loved but I am moved. Beautiful. Will be googling 'sussuration' ... 🙂
Lovely. I love the word susurration - beautiful
Well-wrought, and a lovely poem and piece of music to listen to as a wake up on a Sunday morning.
Oooo, the wind having fingers, I especially loved that! This was a beautiful piece!
Sometimes we just need a wakeup call. Beautiful work.
This was so beautiful and such a fantastic reminder that we need to look around and be appreciative. Sometimes that can be hard to do. Great one Rachel.
Transported & transposed from the mundane to the quietly ecstatic. Beautifully said & played.
A beautiful melody and words. I think your line I have not moved, but I am moved could be good for that tattoo challenge.
‘ I am moved: by the wind and its playful fingers in my hair; ‘ What a beautiful line that adds so much to this wonderful poem. So peaceful
Descriptive writing at its height. Pure joy, Mistress Deeming.