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.
Recent Comments
| Pulsar | Will Vigar on Stanlow | |
| Pulsar – I Bet… on Stanlow | |
| Scene and Not Heard… on Mine | |
 | erroneouschoices on The Night Before… |
 | Will on Nairn Beach (Impressionist) |
Recent Comments