A presence is here amidst these trees
where whispers echo
on the evening breeze
it is something as old,
...
There is a timeless place
That comes unbidden to my memory
Where sky blue harebells border a winding track
And lilies of the valley shine in ancient woodlands
...
Centuries shift in the blink of
a Creator's eye
Somewhere secret
is a holy manuscript
...
We are losing the
quietness of green spaces
The silence
That speaks volumes
...
Around the traveller
the mourning lace of leafless trees
is as still as laundered unworn white ruffs
atop a dark torso of ancientlandscape
...
He sees all manner of things
from his avian perch
in the middle of the little wood
that sudden movement
...
Does belief come from the
intelligent expansion of the heart
or does it ultimately engulf the mind
rendering us gullible
...
a"sculpture"exhibited in the gallery of
Charnwood Museum, Loughborough
old man
...
Those who initiate the conflict
once sat perhaps on horseback
wearing medals from
some long past glory
...