Meeting at Glenthorne
Poetry by Harvey Gillman
We met in silence, the cows and I
in the long wet grass, in worship they,
ruminating I. They sat. I stood
by the wooden fence that set apart
the sprawling house from the winding path
that climbed in awe to the passing clouds.
Again I saw the hill I climbed before:
angels ascending, descending,
stepping lightly on the unploughed earth.
You need to login to read subscriber-only content and/or comment on articles.