Grey

Thin, quiet and

Slow, so-slow

That strip of ghost-near land

‘Tween fog-roll banks and

God-dark’d limits of Heaven.

Wearing grey coat, grey mood

I am disquieted observer –

Intruder perhaps –

Unable to decide whether

Light and season

Are approaching

Or leaving

The stage.

There is glory

Both in the winning

And the giving away.

Bones of Rainbows

wall1

                

                These are the stones,

            Where hooded scavengers

              Each day pick apart the

                 Bones of rainbows,

                 The distances that

               Halted the march of

         Empire’s greedy ambition;

             That defined a nation,

      The place where the comeback

            That ended in nought,

     Began to generate excitement.

           But the breathing here,

      The tales that were born here

     and weave, like treacle smoke,

     In and out of lost eagle winds

     And wool-hung rushes were

       wall        

            Worth it all …

            Worth it all

      And so much more.

 

24/5/2013 (Birdoswald Fort)

Photosources: Top photo: http://www.mikepitts.wordpress.com

Second photo: www.fairtradehadrianswall.co.uk