Henge and Chantry

Dropping down to Wiltshireskies as wide as oceanfish clouds strum byBarrow and Henge hug their secretswarmed by the earth of England.I swing past Manor house and Chantrycrop circles swirl eerily; trees so oldthey watched the young King Henrycourtly dance his six wivesThis land as green as Chaucer’s rhymeeach village swaddled by its tithethe night alive with wiccan magicand history has its own ringto haunt me in the charnel’d night.