With a nod to Thomas Gray

With a nod to Thomas Gray

Take me to the Churchyard

Let me lie beneath the trees

Where sunlight slip slides

Through dancing leaves

Softly kissing tired skin

Dry my eyes

Dab them gently

With a damp cloth

Ease the heat from

A fevered brow

Wait awhile

Under lazy skies

As the apple trees grow

Lush with the fruit of

The goodly moist loam

Rich with heavy clay

It throws a good pot

Drink with me

There is an ease in

Resting a

Broken old back against

A twisted Oak

Feeling the strength

Of a thousand years or more

Seeping through

The core of me

Welcome is the pause

In a day

Holding back the tide

As time moves

Further away

From the beginning

The sky is nearer than it looks

There are Ewe trees here

Their poison keeps

The carrion at bay

The trunk has a red heart

Blood of the dead

Still in circulation

A bleary eyed crow

Perched atop a gravestone

Knows a thing or two

About waiting

Tip the flask

A deep draft

Would suit me very well

Drink to the future

It is always ahead

Of us

Whether we know it

Or not.