Drenched in salt-sea spray,
and cast into the role
of rootless drifter.
Branches broken,
flayed of bark,
and scarred by worm-inflicted wounds.
Then beached,
and bleached by searing sun.
Till eager hands reached out
to place me on display.
'Serendipitous', they say.
'A masterpiece'.
'Such subtle textures'.
'Sublime asymmetry!"
John Walter Taylor
© All rights reserved
7 April 2025
Dissolution
A carrion crow
surveys the roofless void,
and fixes on a pointless arch,
an unmeant folly.
The abbey is marked 'ruin' on the map,
not to suggest the picturesque,
but that disorder is ordained.
Listen carefully.
For among the shards of sun-fired scenes,
unleaded lips remain
to sing a compline prayer,
and remind us of the coming night.
John Walter Taylor
© All rights reserved
20 April 2024, rev. Nov. 2025
