Dusk in Ulting Churchyard The harvest horizon Beckons us with yellow hues Upon the bank of a canal. Tiny sentinel sacred space Stands casting shadows to the east And the crimson glow of the Evening sun Does much to allay my mood And lift my heart-song high As a barge approaches from The west, Carrying my future dreams and aspirations Of another life With water's soft sonnet I depart my past For west coasts drenched in foam. As the light fades In my East Saxon Kingdom I share in the western splendour With my other self Who was always there Waiting for the eternal Return of tomorrows dream. Ulting, Essex September 1994
A long twenty-four months Have passed Since I was last at this place A wilderness landscape Punctuated with lone trees, Weathered by unseen hands. The ghostly images of Ancestors past Impinging upon my mind - "Here's to our dreams" And the nightmare Of darker fantasies In this haunted landscape Awash with spritely beings From another time and space.