Circle
of benediction
Walking
between high hedges
we
talked of his coming travels
beyond
the limits of our sight, and interference
but not
our fears.
In the
opening sky, a heron
our
familiar sign and promise
sails
high over, and then round again,
including
us in a perfect circle
before the slow flight on.
What is
it about these signs,
these
precious portents -
wheeling white doves over the crematorium
stack,
rainbow planted in sea and land,
holding a meaning which holds us inside?
Is this
just wishful hoping that all will be well?
Or is it
an assurance given
that
the black crows of despair
and the
chequered equivocation of the magpies
do not
have the last word…
that
there is goodness, and love woven deep into the world
and
blessing, under those wide, grey wings.
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