The white gate stands, closed,

at the top of the grey winding road.

The broad green slopes of the pasture

lead down to the shining lake,

a silvered mirror to sunlight.

 

At first dawn the vale fills with mist.

A line of treetops, drawn on white,

with a tender brush, nothing more.

All is hidden. Nothing exists here now.

It waits to be born with the sun.

 

An ancient woodland sits in shadow,

deep at the edge of the valley,

where the cry of the circling kestrel

splits the air. He calls to his mate aloft.

The sound defines the distance.

 

On a hot summer day

the grey road burns and shimmers,

running past old stone walls and banks of wild flowers,

wilting, in afternoon heat.

My feet on the road raise fine dust.

 

Woven into these hills the grey road runs down

past ruined ivy clothed archways.

They stand alone in a field,

all that remains of a mansion,

a home, and people long gone.

 

Beyond, is the farmhouse,

built of timber and granite.

It sits as if rooted in earth

nested into a curve,

strong enough to withstand any storm.

 

In the farmyard the mud is baked hard.

The old sheep dog twitches one ear as I pass.

He knows me too well to rise. He is tired.

His thick coated son wags his tail at me.

He is always on guard.

 

I walk on past my own cottage door

into a grove of birch saplings,

mingled with older trees, cedar and oak.

In spring this place is flooded with vibrant blue,

the sharp, pungent scent of bluebells fills the air.

 

In this magical wood, at the far end,

I have often glimpsed the fair folk.

They don’t chase me away. I leave them in peace.

This is a place where two worlds cross.

The door is held open, and welcome.

 

Now I come to rest in the shade

on this burning bright summer day.

I lean my back against the moss clad old oak

and dream the rest of the day away,

long past this, and every other, evening.

 

The old standing stone, at the heart of the valley,

remains always cool to the touch.

At night when the stars are out, in moonlight,

the stone is encircled, embraced by a perfect bowl

of such beauty, it takes away my breath.