I was in Cramond yesterday, to add my objections to the exhibition of the proposed development of Cammo Fields (and you can read my thoughts on that here). It was a very misty day. Looking over the site of the Mesolithic settlement, I could almost imagine how it must have been all those years ago.
I leave the church hall and walk along the gravelled path
through the Roman site,
where signs label barracks and kitchens.
A car passes slowly on the winding tarmac lane.
I slip down the muddy slope
through layers of history.
Mist closes behind me
muffles vehicle noises,
hides the present and the Romans.
Ghosts gather between the trees,
middens of discarded hazelnut shells
their only legacy.
for NaPoWriMo
5 comments:
This is so beautiful, Juliet!
beautiful, peaceful yet haunting imagery.
what a great poem. i could almost imagine myself there with you. i sure hope your words didn't fall on deaf ears. good luck with everything. have a great weekend~
I love the poem, and I love the kind of moment when you can feel that the line between then and now has all but dissolved. We can get such moments even here in the US, but I've certainly had them in Ireland, France, and Italy. And someday, I hope, in Scotland.
I loved these lines: "I slip down the muddy slope/ through layers of history." Marvellous. Many thanks.
Greetings from London.
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