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Guardians of the Gloaming

Lit interior
There is a time a site becomes a space:
something to do with hung doors,
working electrics, flushing toilets-
the whole greater than the sum-
and I’m almost there.
Looking into the lit interior
I can see the time when this studio
will welcome new guests to the farm.

Almost the studio
So its a day like those I used to enjoy,
at the bench,
head down
focussed
all day.

So it’s 7
before I’m done,
the light is fading under grey cloud,
but the wind is warm,
from the south.Grey but warm
The Nog and I head out in the gloaming,
the changeover time,
when senses sharpen.
A woodcocks lifts from the bracken
with a single muffled clap of wings.
A dozen hind stand watching our approach,
low-down the hill:
perhaps drawn by the groans and roars
of the rutting stag across the river.

This road is old,
and ageing as the light fades:
there is a watchtower here,
set on the prominence of a morraine,
surveying those approaching
a people’s domain.
Watchtower
I turn below the bank
and start to climb
after the hinds.

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One thought on “Guardians of the Gloaming

  1. Delighted and privileged to be first guest in the studio – snug and safe! It’s a very calming and creative space.
    Roy, your story a day blog could equally be a poem a day blog. It has some beautiful lines.
    If you were to include an ‘about’ page in the conventional manner, readers might find that useful – and your story, as well as that of the land, is extremely interesting.
    Loved your herd, and the Nog, and hope to be back.
    Helen

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