closing circle at pendle hill

Sitting here in the stillness of the evening, under the grape arbor with twinkly lights, my small plot of heavenly Greece, I hear background sounds of crickets and frogs, and feel the deep peace that cannot be shaken. I give thanks remembering this poem, written when I was both grieving loss and feeling the stirrings of new life and love.

closing circle at pendle hill

at close of day, just before bedtime,
a circle of Friends sits and reflects
on a bowl of autumn leaves
so vibrantly colored they don't seem real,
and listens to poems we have known for years
read by an aging English couple
slowly, deeply like the echoes in a well
the mournful choir of gnats....the wild swans of Coole....
familiar words, yet able to surprise us still
to charm into stillness with their old magic
but then a deeper magic
surprisingly appears
amidst these gray heads and fallen leaves
i think with gratitude
of You, a flower
unfolding its pale pink petals
against the endless blue
horizon of your eyes
in the warm, throbbing
springtime of my astonished heart