Twilight Ritual

I long for the wine of assurance
Feeling the doubtings of men;
My ship returns to its home port
To a scene of my childhood again:

Aspens sing for the river's
Lyrics that never grow old.
Stars pin back the curtains of twilight
On the sky with a broach of pale gold.

The breezes are quietly strumming
Tree harps, while a killdeer's far cry
Tunes the heart to the peace of contentment,
To the cricket's lullaby.

Father calls all the family together
To kneel round the hearthstone in prayer.
The harps of the aspens cease strumming
As he talks to God listening there.

We Gathered Mountain Bluebells

Today I climbed again remembered hills
And gathered Mountain Bluebells there with you.
Can you recall with me the childish thrills
We found within those mystic cups of blue?
I wonder if your Far-off Land can boast
Low-rolling flowered hillsides in the spring
Where wandering children may behold a host
Of Mountain Bells that match a bluebird's wing?
In memory again our arms are filled
With fragrant blossoms that we picked today
While singing in the sun our voices trilled
An echoing and lilting roundelay.
Again we know our childhood's happy bliss,
Our mother's tender smile, her thank-you kiss.