Aryndel Poem by R K Summers

A crouching beast
Lonely on the wild black moors
Of wild black England
Snow swirls
Her windows are dark
The shadows of her eyes
Her lonely songs thunder in the blackest night
In the starless night
No moon to guide the weary pilgrim
Tall black grasses kiss her stone walls
Her cloistered arches cold and barren
The womb of an ancient widow
So black and so desolate
Yet tall and resolute
Like a mighty warrior
No rattle of coin for her empty halls
No splash of water to bless a babe
A dry and crumbling and blackened edifice
With a soft, deft crowning of snow.