Ridgeway


When my feet
Touch this path of rusty flint
And sun bleached chalk

Present and past
Have no meaning,
It is all one
Here at the edge.

Grey wethers,
Woman and man,
Stand forever bound in stone,
Elf shot and spindle whorl
Cast aside.
Lynchettes lie fallow
Under the vast and ragged blue.
Mewing buzzards rise and wheel
Through aeons.

What is this earth,
This stone?
Blood and bone?
A restless churning tide
Of stardust?
My footsteps echo
Through the rolling
Vaults of time.

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Explore posts in the same categories: Local, Nature, Poetry

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2 Comments on “Ridgeway”

  1. Thomas Davis Says:

    Twilark, could you check to see if my comment went to your spam folder? If it did not I’ll check back and try again. This is a wonderful poem.

  2. twilark Says:

    No, Thomas it’s not in my spam folder. Many thanks, Val


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