Sport 10: Autumn 1993
The Silence
The Silence
A mountain hut, an old stone bridge,
skies torn apart by cliffs, and a stream
babbling in praise of the picturesque ...
Like most good things I stumbled upon them,
taking the wrong path, thinking it led to the sea
then, suddenly, looming up, saw these ruins
quarried out of the living rock.
The silence here must have drawn me inland ...
the way it goes further and further back
beyond bee-stir, spider-scratchings,
the creaking skins of ripening plums.