sands in the stream

(an evensong)

along the ridges
above the coast
across unbuilt bridges
in un-dug moats
beneath the soles
of feet unshod
lie unbroken seashells
dreams untrod
bells in empty churches
chime
wells’ waters rising
transcending space and
time
howls of wolves
and children whine
the sounds
the bounds
of falling vines
take the hand
that scrapes the earth
filled with sand
and all it’s worth.

Dr T.P. Wilkinson writes, teaches History and English, directs theatre and coaches cricket between the cradles of Heine and Saramago. He is also the author of Church Clothes, Land, Mission and the End of Apartheid in South Africa. Read other articles by T.P..