This poem came to me after attending David and Hawk's flute workshop in Massachusetts where we all found grace in one another's company. (Fluties tend to get together in flute circles, and many native american stories end, 'That is the end of the story'.)
flute
circle
we came together
and formed a circle
then went our separate ways.
that is not the end of the story.
whenever,
for any one of us,
heart finds song,
fingers form note,
or tree gives flute,
we come together
and form our circle.
there are no separate ways.
that is not the end of the story.
long
after the last of our breaths
warms a bird
the echoes of our songs
will rise from earth to sky,
we will come together
and we will form our circle.
Geoff
Norman, Norfolk, MA
24th October 1999
