We have captured the stones in their circles
First with maps and sketches
Now with our many photographs
They would otherwise move
Dance in the moonlight
Shuffle away to the devils lair
Creep up on a King or a witch
We have opened the barrows to sunlight
Pinned them to history by interpretive notices
Collected the bones within
Lurking on ridges, smothered with grass
Besieged by fields and fences
Children explore and play in the chambers
Where once ancestors dreamed
Do the stones protest at their confinement?
Do barrow wights still lurk after dark?
Have we chased away the Gods-smith?
Do we care?
Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond