guarded by floral gates
and two towering yew trees,
ancient and gnarled.
Three pools of water descend in
concentric circles from the well.
Three women sit at the well head –
the first is silent, contemplating,
her old eyes closed,
her face peaceful, relaxed and listening
to the sounds in the trees around her.
The second makes a chalice with her hands
ancient symbol of the womb
her eyes too are closed,
the wind stirs her brown hair
it moves slowly
strand by strand
across her shoulders.
The third is a girl
staring with wondering eyes
at the world.
She reaches with tentative fingers to touch
rough tree bark and the soft, damp fabric
of flower petals.
The itinerant chatter of birds on the wing
speak to her in the language of nature
with which children are fluent.
Three women sit at the well head
and from them, the sacred waters flow.
I was inspired to write this poem by a visit to Chalice Well Gardens in Glastonbury – a beautiful and very peaceful place.