In the lee of the lichened moor
built square in pale and mellow
topped with ceaseless hands
that mark the hour
watching over
tumbled roofs of earthen red
and gossipers in whispered doors
and dog bark yards
in the shadow of Gods' vaulted house
where bones beneath stones
not conscious of their hour
in the sweet comfort of the earth
sleep on
as behind the wall
a goat warm-eyed suckles
contented a
lamb fat ewe
and beyond the green and willowed bank
the dark old river wanders through
will it be here in this sheltered curve
of shadowed quilten greens
and squat brown hill
we two shall find a place to take our rest
where voices of the faithful ageless
echo still
what alchemy of rhyme
and place and time
discovered lane and chance found gate
shall we here find our special place
in the crossing of place and fate

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