The Nine Stones, Winterbourne Abbas...

When I ten years old, an artless boy, cloaked in happiness, I'd visited this place - 

Now, five decades later, lean, with a shock of dazzlingly white hair, still looking for wonders, I'd returned - 

I remembered sitting cross legged upon the bright grass - nearby, tiny fish shone in a clear fast flowing stream - I was on a school trip - we'd stopped for lunch - I ate the marmite and cucumber sandwiches my mum had made for me - my heart quivered inside my chest - everything I saw was bathed in warm golden light - 

The stones were still dreaming their strange ancient dreams - 

Penny noticed the offerings placed upon the stones, a sprig of rosemary, gleaming pebbles - 

A salty wind blew through a wood of leafless trees - 

Time was different here, I thought - I sensed its movement, its swirling currents, its immense calms - I saw my younger self, shy and watchful, in its shallows - 

12.00

February 18 2015

The Nine Stones

Winterbourne Abbas 

Dorset