The faces of angels ...

There were primroses in the churchyard - 

Snow had fallen upon their tender petals - 

Now the river was in flood - 

Old trees were lapped by chill water - 

The ford was too deep to cross - 

Penelope and I had walked through pines on the hilltop - 

A young stag bounded through coppiced beech and hazel - 

Yellow catkins were dusted with pollen - 

The church door was locked - 

We stood on tiptoe to look through the windows - 

At the end of each dark pew we saw carved the face of an angel - 

11.30

Friday 23 March 2018

Turnerspuddle

Dorset