This is the last in the trilogy of Curtis Pond poems.
Here at Curtis Pond,
Isabella spent some of her happiest time and she's deeply thankful to Trudy,
The lady of the name,
Who knew that this would be a place for her to rejuvenate and create beauty.
There is an effort to save Curtis Pond.
Please be on the lookout to see if you can lend a hand.
Thank you so much.
This is Numphia by Isabella Fusk Macfarlane,
Also known as Lelybel.
And this is for Trudy Boyles,
Her family,
And all of us.
I'm sure you will enjoy,
With all of our love and deep thanks to Trudy.
Blessing you,
And enjoy.
Numphia,
I come,
Once more,
To Curtis Pond,
Where migratory birds abound.
There is no such serenity as here.
Among these lilies white,
Like lotus petals of pure light,
Rising in summer's entity,
Here dwells the lady of the lake,
Who sees the seasons' cycles round.
After the stripping of a death I came,
The year was hard as stone,
To seek here with my love a child.
In an inlet waved with reeds,
Where the grasses hide her home,
She offered me the water's wild,
As to others who had need a place to rest by fertile depth.
A vision,
Where deep water starts,
In oracle of pollen full,
The whole is greater than its parts.
Here we received our child,
Our all,
The pond unfolded life and whole.
Her body wisps like morkweed fluff,
She's frail now,
Where reflections waver.
Still,
Her yankee humour's tough.
We all have some parts that don't work,
But now I don't feel like myself.
Yet,
She is,
More than ever.
She gave far more than just enough.
To friend,
To stranger,
The pond will not forget her.
To choose the generous,
This determines whether we open or we close,
As light moves the numphaea.
Thank you dear Isabella,
Thank you Trudy,
Thank you Curtis Pond,
Thank you.
We love you until we meet again.
