There is a Circle in Tennessee

There is a circle of trees in Tennessee
Of antique oaks and sugar maples
Where the furrowed fields roll round about them
And the sun and moon do pace their measure
And the circle is perfect
And the circle is true
As a golden wedding band
When first placed on its finger
Once we saints sat in lawn chairs
And recited ancient stories
That passed us from heat of day
To the cool of evensong
Beneath the perches of the quail
As they conversed among the branches
And all my family were there
Grandfather, uncle, greataunt and father
Preserved in their places
And I was swinging from a tire
Suspended from the obliging arm
Caught up in the eternal oak
All in a circle
All as one
All together
Forever caught in the honey amber
Stitched in the tapestry of the circle of trees.