The end of the trail ...

As we followed the course of the Wall, over kestrel haunted crags and across ancient landscapes, our journey became a pilgrimage, perhaps the first of many - 

We'd walked along the banks of the Tyne, under noble bridges - we'd watched swallows circle a lonely house - we'd stood before the three altars of a temple, under a darkening sky - 

We'd shared stories in warm farmhouses about ghosts, dogs and eccentric headmistresses - 

Each day, we'd learned something new about each other - 

Pele towers had hoarded memories of reivers and the songs of richly robed captains - 

With each step we took, the stones beneath our feet told us new secrets - 

We heard sad prayers in the air over The Heavenfield - 

Now we were at the end of the trail, standing inside a wooden pavilion, on the southern shore of the widening firth - 

A rose with dark red blooms scented the air - steps led downwards through banks of herbs - 

A Finnish woman, living in London, smiling her icy smile, said shall I take your picture? - 

Penny then laughed let's do a selfie she said - 

There were are, in the I phone picture, smiling and proud - 

In my note book I wrote 4.20, I feel absurdly elated - 

The bright sunshine made the silent village even more dreamlike - 


16.20
July 15 2014

Bowness on Solway