In the Fen Country
White Owl hovers over the plain
Darkening skies above
Cool crisp snow, carpeting the evening landscape
As Fenland closes in around
With a wild surety
That only a hunting bird of
Nocturnal skies can only really know.
Dusken spirit of this land within
A land, shimmering ghost
Gliding softly till his quarry sought
With life defying talons clenched
Then away and all is quiet and still
Once more within this
Vast languishing ocean
Reclaimed prairie region.
I monitor a treeless skyline
Which lures me towards a mire of reeds
And rushes; glowering, towering
High above this lowland clearing.
Loamy shifting earthen sanctuary
Lead me to your mysterious majestic isle
Where Gothic splendour soars
And sacred music wafts on
Soft night air.
Tiny entrancing city of revelation
Sited between a darkened dome of
Jewelled and sparkling
Constellations -
Far, far older than time itself;
I listen to my dreams
In the Fen country
Where ancient Mercian and
Anglian romantic borders meet.
Silver dart-like rivers
Cris-cross divide and cut
Through this intriguing
Fen scape dream time zone,
Surreal with its gentle
Subtle beauty which creeps and sidles
Up to me alarming yet soothing
In its brooding magnificence:
A different land for me
To grit my teeth and
Stride out, exploring,
Expanding across the
Agricultural pastoral growing
Lands for larders bulging protrusions
Rustic among farm hands
Roughly hewn with work
Toiling and tilling
Their sweet surroundings
Their soft dark and peaty earth
Featureless and mountain less
It may be; but cloud-streaked blue
Wide open skies
Stretch out far and away
Resplendent with a difference
Only truly found
In this flat-land place.
Darkening skies above
Cool crisp snow, carpeting the evening landscape
As Fenland closes in around
With a wild surety
That only a hunting bird of
Nocturnal skies can only really know.
Dusken spirit of this land within
A land, shimmering ghost
Gliding softly till his quarry sought
With life defying talons clenched
Then away and all is quiet and still
Once more within this
Vast languishing ocean
Reclaimed prairie region.
I monitor a treeless skyline
Which lures me towards a mire of reeds
And rushes; glowering, towering
High above this lowland clearing.
Loamy shifting earthen sanctuary
Lead me to your mysterious majestic isle
Where Gothic splendour soars
And sacred music wafts on
Soft night air.
Tiny entrancing city of revelation
Sited between a darkened dome of
Jewelled and sparkling
Constellations -
Far, far older than time itself;
I listen to my dreams
In the Fen country
Where ancient Mercian and
Anglian romantic borders meet.
Silver dart-like rivers
Cris-cross divide and cut
Through this intriguing
Fen scape dream time zone,
Surreal with its gentle
Subtle beauty which creeps and sidles
Up to me alarming yet soothing
In its brooding magnificence:
A different land for me
To grit my teeth and
Stride out, exploring,
Expanding across the
Agricultural pastoral growing
Lands for larders bulging protrusions
Rustic among farm hands
Roughly hewn with work
Toiling and tilling
Their sweet surroundings
Their soft dark and peaty earth
Featureless and mountain less
It may be; but cloud-streaked blue
Wide open skies
Stretch out far and away
Resplendent with a difference
Only truly found
In this flat-land place.
River Great Ouse, Isle of Ely
This poem was inspired partly by a Christmas day afternoon visit to Ely Cathedral in 1993, where the choir sung Vaughan Williams' Fantasia on Christmas Carols; and the same composers sublime symphonic impression In the Fen Country.
