Tuesday April 2nd
Flowers bloom, fade, die,
Pavement art brings joy,
then goes,
We must heed the now.
Thursday April 3rd
A road called 'Struggle',
Roman armies pounded it
Their ghosts walk with
us.
(in the Lake District)
Friday April 4th
Hills tucked up in cloud,
Trees fade into the
gloom, then
Sunlight stabs a field.
Saturday/Sunday April 5th &6th
Hardknott
(Mediobogdom)
It was a cold posting on
The furthest edge of the
Empire.
It lives, like a guilt,
in my mind.
I look now at my
vineyards,
The turquoise Adriatic,
my villa,
Relax with my veteran
rewards,
I should be peace,
And yet my spirit keeps
returning.
We marched upwards,
From a derelict, deserted
shore
Towards the cloud, the
high place
Buried in the mountains:
Hardknott.
We were a seasoned cohort
Marching second nature,
But the cold, the endless
rain
Numbed all desires but to
stop.
The camp was lonely,
Perched in the damp, in
the shadow
Of the peaks.
Our life lay in stone.
Granite.
Cutting, carrying,
laying, the road
To make a crossing for
our legions
To guard this hideous
outpost of Rome.
And yet, we were a body
of men
who moved like a drilled
chariot team.
We achieved that wretched
pass,
Withstood the deluges of
infernal rain.
I'm marking time now,
sharing military tales
Of a road that will be
crumbling now,
Lost to the clouds, the
drizzle and the British.
(The legions involved
were from the Dalmatia)
Monday April 7th
Wood around graphite,
A pencil is born,
Write of love with it
Not fear.
Tuesday April 8th
I look down as I climb
Seeing footfall not hills
Lift my eyes and see.
