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The Ridgeway

Ancient Trackway


Ridgeway Pageant

All the hills are watching,
Awed and still:
Away below
Retreats the faint-heart Vale.
An angry, mighty sky
Rears high,
Piled all triumphant to the setting sun -
Lit mad in changing chaos:
Silver backed, then gilded.
Mottle-splashed with crimson...
Darkened depths, part broken,
Upward pierced
By shafts of sunlight questing -
Molten vistas glistening
And portals passioned low
In ranks of terraced fire.
They drift, they fade..
New forms take shape -
With opal half-light intermingle...
Glare reflects a lustre
On the pale, dry headland mass
Of White Horse Hill.
A strange, tense calm -
Impending dusk alight with radiance:
A wild serenity.

In slow, rough accent:
"That ther' brings some weather, sna..."
A shepherd stays his sheep
Before the blaze.

Roye England
wysefool Posted by wysefool
14th May 2007ce

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