A Deserted Village
An Architect would no doubt weep
at the maze of tumbled rock found
sad, lonely, lost beneath the sweep
of beaten bracken paths. Summer
*
brings bright silence with each new dawn.
The shadow of Hound Tor retreats
revealing a hamlet, not mourned,
resting in natures verdant shroud.
*
Man forgotten, sheep and goats graze,
skylarks spar with zephyrs over
wild flowers, wild herbs, wildlife. A place
of plague, abandoned, lost in thyme.
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This entry was posted on May 19, 2016 by Will in Poem, poem of the day, Poetry, Will Vigar and tagged a swift exit, dartmoor, devon, hamlet, herbs, hound tor, landscape, mediaeval village, pastoral, peaceful, plague, poem of the day, poems, Poetry, skylarks, thyme, writing, zephyr.Shortlink
https://wp.me/p7hxIP-4dArchives
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