An Epidaurus Poem by Phil Lowe

Standing in the mossy fringe
of the amphitheatre of my youth

Now crumbled limestone seats
reduced to a shattered quarry

Shifting rocks lay smitten by
the erosive gods of time
Fallen, silent.

On this day the summer sun
once more illuminates the brackened
woodland space.

Through ash and oak the rays
bejewel damp and green cut beams

Glorious summer spiders scuttle in the
gossamers, hunch backed, prepared for all.

In one brilliant heart smiling moment
a chorus of jubilant spirits sweep back
the shimmering curtains of time!

Sparks of memory ignite.
The songs of joy and woodsmoke
Fill the veiled soul and senses.

In the far distance the constant
traffic roars its applause.