Silbury Hill

As your world changed
As strangers came with magic melting rocks
With swords that came from stone
With the bright and shiny
You built your last

Piled sacred river stones
Mounding on midsummers day
Dug deep into hard chalk with antler picks
Growing the mound higher and higher
Hollowing a great winter moat

Mist wreathed Silbury sits tall and green
In winter
White with frost and snow
Reflected in a sacred pool

And Silbury Hill still shocks
Still looms ahead of the unwary traveller
And even those that come to seek it
Are awed by what you did with bone and stone

Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond

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