Echoes Poem by Mark Heathcote

Echoes move ongoing to more expansive goals in a choir.
Slowly, they drift away on a tide out to sea
Like milkwort seeds to another distant shore
Door to door, till a widow opens the top of the stairs
Top-floor an eagle glides alone, unseen
It never knows what's in store.

Echoes move like they've never been so glad
Moving like they've never been as happy as now to leave.
But we all wish they wouldn't fall
Through a trapdoor on a stage
But that's theirs and our enclave forever more.

That's the way an echo goes.
That's the way an echo goes.
Don't say - I'm a sage.
That's the way all life is.
Hosannas in the snow is melting once again when we all die.
When we all dine like eagles of the sky.