Ring Toss Poem by Amos Greig

Bronze Age shelter slowly eroded by the careless
Impersonal presence of sheep and cattle,
Ironically being repurposed for original
Role.

For the uncaring traveller only a fungus encrusted
Sign stands vigil marking the entrance point.
Tramping past the jogger and the dog walkers
Represent the passing of time.

Mists of altitude erase the present, mask the past,
I climbed the turn style approach the raised embankment.
Cotton wool clouds wrap the unwary,
Ground becomes treacherous.

Flax dots the area while windswept trees all
Flow toward the horizon. Fairy rings they
Are sometimes called four and half thousand
Such places mark previous occupation.

Blindly I stumbled slid down the ditch
Sight and sound obfuscated,
Harsh ice water shocks me back to the present.
I claw my way out of the mud,
Roots dragging pleading with me to stay.

As I lay panting my breath fogging in the cold winter's night
I could see the city light's like water droplets
Beaded on a spiders web trapping humanity,
Contained within the city gave
The false illusion of freedom.