Jervaulx

Old stone buildings
Ruins from an age
So long ago,

And this lichen,
Smudged  upon my sleeve
Seven centuries 
Of sacred dust

The tracered 
Gap toothed edge
Of this colonnade 
Gone west,

A grassy mound
Of sanctuary
De-sanctified,
Today the spiral incense
Only that of burning leaves.

On this holy ground
Where lambs
May safely graze
White cowled monks
Once hourly
Sang their praise.

JL Sept 11. 14:15