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A final farewell to the Black Mountains

by Patricia Evans

It had to be an event
And not an incoherent
Tumble of fractured recollections
But something singular.
I chose a day
When those hills
Ran in relief
Against a backcloth
Of virginal blue sky,
Our Lady's colours,
Wayward clouds of white
To have their way,
Some fluffy white
As a bonnet
For someone's
Beloved child
Newly born.

The wind played its part
Gentle shapes
Across the way
That led my steps
Before me,
Dancing shapes -
Images not seen before
This day
As if putting
On a show for my
Own pleasure.
As they said
Their farewell to me,
Sad to see me leave
A gentle mist of rain
Joined with tears of farewell.
Fare you well, dear hillsides.
Be assured that
Just as you for years
Have carried me,
I shall always carry you
In my heart
For as long as that heart

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