I wrote this poem several years ago in an attempt to capture or enumerate the intangible, fleeting beauty of a clear morning in spring. It didn’t work, of course, because mornings are too vast for words on a page, but I tried, because that’s what writers do.

The result is far less spectacular than the morning, but I think it turned out well. It is important to note that England is a damp and cloudy place, so the sun, when it chooses to appear, is a rare and welcome treat.

At this time of year, it can be easy to get caught up in finals and papers and travels and plans for the holidays, and I think sometimes we all need a reminder to look up from our to-do lists and Christmas shopping, and notice the world around us.

"When Sunshine Breaks, One England Morn"

Sweet breeze
Short sleeves
Golden light
Soft and bright
Birdsong on the springtime air
Reminding that the world is fair
When sunshine breaks, one England morn

Bare feet
Air sweet
Willows bend
Sorrow's end
Squishy mud slides between toes
Stone steps whereon to take repose
When sunshine breaks, one England morn

Grass scent
Clouds rent
Shadows few
Scattered dew
Daffodils bright, young, and spry
And all alight the eastern sky
When sunshine breaks, one England morn

Snowdrops
Time stops
Cold is stilled
Rain unspilled
Winter's reign at last doth end
A taste of summer, time doest lend
When sunshine breaks, one England morn

Blue sky
Birds fly
Unashamed
Rise again
Ever higher and anon
They revel yet in gayest song
When sunshine breaks, one England morn

Empty room
Fate's loom
Tapestry
Wove for thee
As the tide, it shrinks and swells
But toward what end, well who can tell?
When sunshine breaks, one England morn

Cars rush
Sides brush
Pigeon pecks
Bread crumb specks
Terra cotta orange tiles
And roads that span ten thousand miles
When sunshine breaks, one England morn

Bright eyes
Surprise
From afar
Beams of star
Heaven-sent, a blessing come
That can-all told-compare to none
When sunshine breaks, one England morn