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This is our little portion
we belong here where these,
my fathers, signed the stones
and the time-traced air,
stirring a misted stream of
prayer where it flows
to a homing light;
a stream of fallen leaves
crisp to the feet where
Autumn left them; some
green-sapped, stripped
in the north wind's eye when
grief was spawned.
Move gently, time. Yesterday
has gone;
tomorrow casts it shadow long
before.
Where is today? What is time
in circles and
transience of life and death?
Aluric, you were here,
weaving your coarse parochial cloth.
I too. we dipped our
threads where day flung them,
and in the night their hues
resolved.
(*Aluric was a Saxon vicar of Cannington)
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Cannington has been a
substantial settlement for over 1500 years.
We would like to share some of this with
you.
