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.