Retreat from to

Spent a day in my old village at a perfect church - looking thinking feeling.

        Over the churchyard a pastel of grass

        Inquires from my past about the future

        Hear - the wind has a different voice

        As leaves chatter gentle, mention a progress

        Clarity, of brown trunks, red fruit incidentals

        The receding grass, flat spreading,spreading 

wordless

        Autumn touches, green ochre's, through the whisper

        White walls;silence stark, halt my thinking

        The green's gentle present, the unstated here

        There is no ignoring this quiet asking

        There was a depth to the air

        No - only a now unchanged passing through

        From afar, a church bell through rain

        Over fields, trees unseen, a single rook

        The wood painted, unfinished when as started

        Here time so conjoined does not go 

        My feeling is here; becomes my knowledge

        Stretches away, out there, by remembrance bounded

        All that 'now' will purchase - now proved 

        Second hand - from a bit of grass

Reviews

[Karen]

I love the way you have personified so many elements of nature in this poem, particularly the oracle grass and gossiping wind and leaves. The beauty of this poem lies in the hold nature has on some of us, particularly in carrying our secrets with them and telling each other about it. Beautiful poem. I look forward to reading more of your work.

[emmajoy]

' Over the churchyard a pastel of grass ~~ Inquires from my past about the future ~~
Hear - the wind has a different voice ~~ As leaves chatter gentle, mention a progress ..'

What a gentle but distinct opening! Your words really express your feelings, quietly laid, thoughts hovering your surroundings. Then you move on.

' The wood painted, unfinished when as started ~~ Here time so conjoined does not go ~~
My feeling is here; becomes my knowledge ~~ Stretches away, out there, by remembrance bounded '

You have a nostalgic way of seeing places, feeling the air within and around them .. tis softly beautiful, but, perhaps, sad here and there .

[Michael Oliver]

You got it dead right -

[emmajoy]

Smiled at that .. not sure about the 'dead' bit!