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Wandlebury - The Roman
Road
Out in the darkness where the shadows are
a Roman road lies, an arrow in flight.
Trees overhang; heard whispering from afar,
they communicate the night's distress.
There are more than we three on this road.
See how the dead clamour and press
trying to bring us to the shadowland,
showing us glimpses of the endless forest
where they dwell. Ancient memories
press on the rutted way that we tread:
centuries of nights such as this, which alone
could dream the Romans into insignificance.
Only the shadows of the dead remain,
following the Wanderer,
who strides on ahead, bent hat and grey cloak
moving in the breeze that stirs the leaves
of Yggdrasil. His ragged staff
glows dimly; the darkness thickens.
Silence descends and time recedes.
There is nothing but the road and the dead and the trees
and a glimmer of light ahead.
It is the sky, and the open fields. The dead recede;
the road returns to its solitary dream.
© Yvonne Aburrow
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