Monday, 21 March 2011


Two score and six
of my three score and ten,
sat on a rock outcrop
in an empty field,
a finger round
and round the markings.
Below they bury people still
in a woodland graveyard,
it's church
has been
and gone,
but the lapwings in the field
don't seem to care
and carry on as if
the dykes were not there.

What was three score years and ten
to those above the empty woods?
when antler and flint
worked round
and round the markings,
and startled lapwings
on the open hill.

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