Fonthill Gifford

Silence became deafening,lowers over house skirts beech treesdescends to the lake, fans over water.Blue hills tithe barn and thatch,lone swan glides on mill ponddreams of wild horses, topsy coloured foalsunder water over swallow.Lodge by the lake looks on weir waterwillow scant scent of fox, past lingersin tree curves sense of before timespeople’s lives crumbled into peat earth.Blood clots as star dust: elements convergemoon behind cloud creates rainbowsilence turns to morning, head acheswith the pressure, transubstantiation .nothing forgotten.