A perfect New England night under a moon that followed us across the sky. The birdsong rang out and echoed against the trees. The audience was silent. The only other sounds we heard were the waterfall of words of beauty, of justice, of grief, of sadness and memory and yes, also of love. Words like slap, mourn, nightfall, stars, delight and shadow, knurled and gather and hands fell into us. This was the first night of The Sunken Garden Poetry Festival at the Hillstead Museum. Reading this night were Hadar Bar-Nadav and Ted Kooser, United States Poet Laureate and Pulitzer-Prize winner. We three sat on the lawn as we have so many times over the years on a summer night, somewhere in someplace drifting into far off realms. Poetry always takes us there. We three. Tears fell, smiles crept across our lips and laughter rose up from our hearts. It was a good night to listen, hawks overhead.