Harvest home

These days, I know as many names among
The churchyard stones as in the church. I knew
Their faces, voices, ways: when I was young
They were my world, and now there are so few
Familiar folk to shake hands at the door
Or catch up over coffee. So I sing
The well-loved harvest hymns, give thanks once more
And think on those now safely gathered in.

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5 thoughts on “Harvest home

  1. This is just a wonderful poem…as we grow older it does seem there are more outside than inside the church that we know…old friends become fewer as the years progress…you have once again written a briliant poem.

  2. This is sadly an accurate portrayal of how, as we age, more and more of our loved ones pass through the veil – however, I like how you have linked this with harvest – a time for great rejoicing…yes, we should rejoice their lives and live ours in joy too. A wonderful poem. Chloe xx

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