The Church Tower Lays on the River Bed

The stone tower sunk back into the bed

It lies under numbing sheets of water
Is draped in a green weed blanket
Knitted close to worked apart blocks
The tower knelt into silt and sleeps
Twitching only under a swan wash
The fanned
                         fingers will       never
                      wake up
    And the    earth                reclaims
It’s own            fabric    
                                     Again.


The AA Illustrated Guide to Britain - Hemingford Grey

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