The same moon ...

I glimpsed the church through a frieze of umbels -

Our house was hidden by a screen of trees -

I bought of the teachers who had once lived there -

Playing the harmonium under the apple tree -

The children from the cold cottages dancing ancient measures -


The last teacher lies in her green bed behind the trees -

I think of her, climbing our narrow stairs -

Once her stairs -

Our fire place, too, once hers -

I pictured her, heaping up the smoking coals -

Perhaps reading the book of a prophet by the light of three candles -

The same moon caught by the branches of the tree -


Tuesday 1 October 2019

East Stoke