Crystal clear waters surging from earth’s core,
Nature’s way of balancing necessity,
In sunshine and showers.
The aroma of sweetly scented flowers,
Woodbine and peppermint, the hawthorn in bloom.
A sheltered retreat where ofttimes children played.
Young boys and girls sometimes barefooted in the dewy grass
Met and shared secrets
With only the blackbird and song thrush to bear witness.
And again at evening close, as dusk descended,
With misty solitude on the braes,
Dreaming of a life in foreign lands
But wary of the stranger’s ways.
Providence was in the stars as
Father Phil took up his ministry,
With the vision to make a difference.
Surveying the mountain and there deciding
that gravity flow
Would channel the lakes clear waters
from the summit to the Valley below.
The well still gently flows
through overgrown vegetation.
The worn flagstone path no longer visible.
Wild woodbine as ever sweetly scented.
The Crab Apple Tree still bearing fruit for
the Blackbird, Songthrush and Goldfinch.
Many one time well wishers
have settled in Distant Lands.
In quiet moments do they reflect
on the carefree freedom of bygone days.
Or have they found at last,
that paradise of youthful dreams.