Cuthbert Poem by pete Hall

Strained light illuminates a cell wall
The candle of a saint.
Not yet framed In the history of the English

The nave of the North East washes sin
Rollers from the German Sea.
Haul heavy Prayers onto winter beach.

A congregation waits
Mute lambs, oft fleeced, now with hope
From a man who walks unaccompanied Into woods of oak.

Where grim hangers
Melt into hillsides.
Homesteads and barns
Flicker dark.
They have no light

But Cuthbert
Saint
He does not walk alone