lost cloister

A miner's bird freed from
it's underground
Purgatory sings a Te Deum
to the morning Light

Butterfly breath brushes
 the cheek and the foot breaks
the silver meanderings of
the snail

A feather from an angel's wing lies in the tangle with the disintegrating and discarded work boot

Soft eyes of those loved, but no more, seeing but
unseen amid the shadowed paths and murmured good mornings

Gaping bars of a defunct drain root the beauty of the dog rose, and incense perfume envelops the currant bush

Birchen black shadows of day and white dreams of night, and the ghosts of miners picnicking on wild strawberries

Cobwebs of life, complex and entrancing, broken by a fleeting deer.
Soulful reflection and searing joy.
What colour the wind in this cloister?
Lost Cloister in the Old Colliery -HJ 2011