Walking, I discover

Hills I never knew in thirty years of passing;

Valleys, deserted, hidden in folds and time:

Mair says once there was a community here

Self contained, sufficient unto itself

Walking, I find

Landscapes we could have seen before, perhaps shared

Their riches, dreamed their past, known their present:

I'm told these Druid hills sing history itself

Sing...

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An Unexpected Ghost In The Yorkshire Post

She stares out at me from the page of white -
all pixels, paper, print and phantom eyes,
a child of contrasts under exposed skies
dancing somewhere between the dark and light.
I recognise the features well, despite
the brutal glare of histories disguise.
This archive feature caught me by surprise
for we are separated by times flight.
You are a g...

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Inspired by the cart on the patio at Carob Cottage, Ilgaz, North Cyprus

The Cart

Broken down cart
Ornamental on patio.
Past cargo
Hay, grain, carob and olives.
Cypriot Wagoner
Long gone.
Donkey or horse
Living engine, now dead.

Journeying here
Pulling there.
Carter whistling
Sometime singing.
Folk songs of old
Clip, clop beat the hooves.
Rattling chains
Rubbing hames.

Iro...

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