Sunday Matins

It is early and dew still adorns,

but next door someone is already playing music,

the sound spreading,  being shared,

dissipating the haze of morning.

But listen, further out, the church bells are ringing,

telling me there is no music save their own;

that I need to escape the weekday burden.

Momentarily, I practice scales.

Hum to the music, watching

leaves in self contained rhythm,

grass swaying in concert;

the sound of birdsong becoming 

louder as I ready myself.

"Time to go mum," he calls,

"I'll start the car for you."

(his favourite growing up thing of late.)

"Nearly ready darling," I call back,

coat and umbrella to hand,

thinking that even dark clouds and

rain are worthy of prayer;

on a Sunday morning,

when someone is already 

playing music.

Reviews

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

Every aspect of life should be considered a blessing for it makes us who we are.
Everyday we wake up is always the start to what could be a great day if we enjoy the things we have.

[Eilis]

My son also likes to start the car. I think there’s something about the responsibility implied. He likes to feel he’s doing something above his age-grade. :))

I really enjoyed this, Beccy. It reminds me of a Psalm or hymn. Sometimes things can be as simple as embracing the joy of a moment and allowing it to filter through you. Not everything needs to be complex. Some things are better when we approach them in innocence and without expectation.

I attend a Lutheran congregation and I take a lot of joy from the simplicity of the rhythms and rituals of services. There’s a profound sense of peace to be found (for me) in the repetition of songs and scriptures and traditions.

Your poem made me feel that same kind of peaceful state of mind. I enjoyed the journey of it.

[NotUsinganymore]

Very lovely poem about a Sunday morning. Wish my Sunday was like that but I live in a city that has 13 million people. So it's always crowded and noisy.

[Beccy]

I lived in London (almost 9 million population,) for several years. The secret is to find a place of peace and tranquility; and they are there if you look. Church on Sundays works for me. :))

[NotUsinganymore]

I've been to London a few times for my job. It's pretty nice but the English accents are hard to understand.

[Terpsichore]

I read all your poetry Beccy, and always find your phraseology quite unique. You have a way of putting the reader right there, an ability to bring moments to life and this beautifully detailed poem, (that as it did to jacob, speaks loudly to me of the bond between a mother and her son,) is no exception.

(his favourite growing up thing of late.) Just that single line alone, sets the scene with astonishing clarity.

Got to say, for me, this is one of your best.

T

[jacob erin-cilberto]

the music of mother and son...like Jesus and Mary...only this is the poet and son...
and the parallel of two different songs...the music next door....and that soul music down the block in the little church...both good for the soul.
j.