A Winter's Walk

Copyright © Isabella Dalzell 2018. All RIghts Reserved.

Up upon the Ridgemere I saw a hare                                    

dancing in the dusk. The ploughed field lay                                      

fallow. The whited owl fell through air                                             

misty with first frost, streaked gold and grey.                                  

 

The moon spread there a soft and stony light                                  

Silver in the waning sky above shadowed hills                                              

spread far wide. The Ridgemere trailed bright                                 

a smeuse for Saxon warriors opposed                                              

 

to Norman knights come scavenging with swords                                        

outstretched. A lone blue stone marks this thinning                        

place where teemed marauding friends and lords                           

whose days I see before me dimming                                               

 

                In the twilit lane as sparrows feed 

                up in the tree and whispering we come close.                                  

                Where below the vast

                new build, sprawling, steam-rollers over the land.