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
Perched high upon the remnants
of a pointless arch,
an anxious raven
scans the roofless void.
His haunt is labelled 'ruin' on the map,
which promises the picturesque,
but speaks of order lost to disrepair.
The footsteps of its monks
have long been stilled,
but in 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. Aug. 2026
