There are many ruins in all the deserted valleys around here. I love to explore them and feel the past.
In the autumn I met Ilidio training his cows to plough. Wow, I love it!
The Ruins (After “Dead Fires” by George Mackay Brown)
The big, mud-built barn
Cornerstone of the farm
Stands empty, roofless.
Bees perforate the walls,
Lizards accomodate the stalls
Rubbed smooth over aeons
By animals,
And Children's bare feet,
And straw,
Passed over to feed
The precious beasts.
A house the size of a shoe box,
Gaping-roofed.
Toothless, grinning dorway.
Once the home of many
Round the fire
Where the pot stood.
Eat what they could.
No one went hungry
Unless they all did.
(For sale to the highest bidder,
Old ghosts for new dreamers.)
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