by Brian G. Daigle

There is a field I stumbled upon when dusk had newly passed. 
My feet did tiredly trod and slide along that starward path. 

The moonlit silhouettes did tell of something grand but veiled. 
And so through the night I stayed awake till dawn through dark prevailed. 

Atop this hill which I had climbed, which took but every breath 
There stood erect a cottage tall, which memory had kept. 

The mind's eye did not see because I had known her here.
It was the image my soul had built as love passed through the years. 

It was the country house before me that GKC once told
was written for him...which he has never seen; but built in the shape of his soul.

Here it stood patient and steadfast strong, though for her I did not choose this path. 
I began along this starward road through life's uncanny wrath.

But now knee-deep in pools of blue and orchads streaming green. 
I remember deep this house unknown and assuredly never seen. 

The stones beneath my tired feet did easily bid me glide. 
I reached her door, the windows closed, to see what waits inside. 

The view upclose was beauty untold and what was marvelous more
There was a nest of songbird chirps in the ivy about her door.

by Brian G. Daigle 
​
Amidst the ashes, rubble deep,
There bloomed a peony.
Atop the blackest night of death 
Its bloom spread forth to me. 

How it was planted then and there
Never shall we know,
But unmistakable to all who passed
Is how its beauty shone. 

Its vibrancy, resilient life,
It beckons me to gaze,
To stumble forth with tired legs 
To set my heart ablaze. 

A blaze it was that burned this land, 
And blaze the peony sends.
The first destructive, pain to bear, 
The second, a light without end. 

A hope, a future, the birth of life,
Where death so close had been,
But light to conquer all the dark
And breath pour forth again. 

A physician, this flower, just like her name,
To heal an achy heart. 
Tis light to the eyes,
Tis sun to the skin,
Tis health for every part.