Wrekin

A short trip,

a generation’s leap;

new horizons,

or oceans deep,

a point of view;

a time of day

a different face

from any angle.

But always…

the familiar imprint.

Prominent, not

hidden from time

like Mitchell’s Fold

or Bury Ditches;

sharp in profile

familiar to the

sleeping legions

in its shadow.

Not brooding,

but deep rooted

like a terrestrial

iceberg, lone sentinel

shoring borders

from an eastern tide,

while they scrape

its surface without

impression.

John H Davies

22nd March 2011