Broch Of Gurness by Thelma Nicol
from the Tales Of Eynhallow
I wandered round these ancient ruins,
With thoughts so far away,
I thought of hallowed customs,
When people here did stay.
And then I touched some weathered stones,
Someone had built with care,
Fashioned with an artist’s touch,
Although no tools were there.
A hollowed stone where once a maid,
Had ground the corn for bread,
Blackened stones upon the floor,
Say: “Here a fire was laid”.
Some skins spread on the floor, perhaps,
To keep the small room warm,
And in this ancient home, no doubt,
Children too were born.
A thousand years ago or more,
These warriors hunted deer,
And fashioned with their work worn hands,
Bead and bowl and spear.
Perhaps a thousand years from now,
Someone will wander round,
The ruins of our modern homes,
All scattered on the ground.
Will some machine-made cooking pot,
Or factory-fashioned cup,
Remain a thousand years somewhere,
For someone to pick up?