Fonthill Gifford

Silence became deafening,
lowers over house skirts beech trees
descends to the lake, fans over water.

Blue hills tithe barn and thatch,
lone swan glides on mill pond
dreams of wild horses, topsy coloured foals
under water over swallow.

Lodge by the lake looks on weir water
willow scant scent of fox, past lingers
in tree curves sense of before times
people’s lives crumbled into peat earth.

Blood clots as star dust: elements converge
moon behind cloud creates rainbow
silence turns to morning, head aches
with the pressure, transubstantiation .

nothing forgotten.

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