Tumuli
Gaunt trees, scant shelter
For the grass covered barrow
On wind caressed downland
Overlooking the vale
The ancient chalk highway
A stone’s throw away
Lies vacant, brooding;
Acknowledges whispers, inaudible echoes
Vibrations from invisible feet
Weathered sarsen monoliths
Stand to attention
Lichen encrusted overseers
Of a strange uneasy place
The pulse quickens, reactive sensation
An incorporeal feeling;
The heart of past centuries
Although hidden, still beats.
David Pike