Birdoswald ...

We arrived at Birdoswald by late morning - we sat on the grass, sipping cappuccinos out of cardboard cups - a sycamore tree shaded us from the sun - I gazed upwards at the dark leaves - 

Alyson said that the mile castle we'd passed on the way, just beyond Willowford Farm, was haunted - 

I wouldn't like to go there at midnight she said - 

In my notebook I'd written the turf is full of memory - 

A large stone house with Victorian crenellations overlooked the site of the Roman fort - 

Sheep grazed amongst the ruins - ancient stone lay below the pasture  - 

I admired the excavated gateway - I stood under the invisible arch, sensing its outline in the air - 

In the small museum, I gazed upon a nest of corroded nails - 

There was an exhibition of photography and poetry, each photograph accompanying a poem - 

I read and read again the stanza about the old gods - I was aware of the crow's beak and its empty eye - 

12.30

July 12 2014

Birdoswald