On such a night the hills dissolved
and re-assembled in the shifting mist,
Numb with moonloghts touch.
We learnt that silence was not hostile.
Took upon ourselves its deepest strength
Waiting for dawn's layered sun.
A moon that paced
As crow's shout cracked the sky
fled from the triggered bird-song
Hestitant then loud.
Before our eyes, a second birth,
A new-created universe,
Green and blue and gold.
Fluted stones whose shapes had shifted
with emitted heat
From bearded barley heads,
Buried to the hips,
reclaim their circle and identity,
Guarding and inviting
As the suns diurnal course
Played a slow game
With shadow shapes
Time and time and time again."
Northumberland, The Power of Place.
Pub Tempus publishing.
Posted by fitzcoraldo
14th October 2002ce