A Late Walk

i walk through the lane again now all tarred, laterite the gravel all gone with the pieces of my life they hit the soft spots under the feet aching the soul the mind spreads out in so many lustrous petals in a circle of joy a luminuous lunar disc rises over the horizon of the years the lengthy lane now so short for the legs once so short childhood friends, neighbours they saunter back, stare, laugh a diamond in the gravel sparkles at the back and fore of my eyes the heart leaps to a warm nest of bygone years filled with feathers of every kind inspired by A Late Walk When I go up through the mowing field, The headless aftermath, Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew, Half closes the garden path. And when I come to the garden ground, The whir of sober birds Up from the tangle of withered weeds Is sadder than any words A tree beside the wall stands bare, But a leaf that lingered brown, Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought, Comes softly rattling down. I end not far from my going forth By picking the faded blue Of the last remaining aster flower To carry again to you.