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.