A fallen stone,
At last recumbent,
Sleeps on the ground.
In the indefinite past
Stones encircled this place,
Made it separate.
Lichen-bearded rock, weathered,
Grew a stern face, let time grind on.
Memory wore out.
Other thoughts, other days
Put spade to the sod,
Cut road and track across the world
The stones held back.
So wounded,
The world was changed,
Everything, every living thing,
Enclosed or left,
Ghosts, in a place divided.
Concealed in woods
On the flanks of hills
Stone circles stand still,
Outdated and outgrown.
In my garden
The grey recumbent
Slips a little deeper in the ground.
Hollow places there
Still echo in the night.
© BH 2012
Just a thought for the summer solstice. The stone circular persistence of time.
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