The Sunlight flickers, casting discernment
Through the ancient oaken half opened door.
A cumulus cluster cancels chances
Of brightness reaching to the nave once more.
The stale air of centuries lingers on
Begrudging the open door, the new breeze
Battling the fug of dull, dying decay
Where languid lotus eaters lay, at ease.
The damp, the dust, the sense of stillness poised
To herald bats and silent bells to ring.
Pews polished, prayer books piled in readied rows
To hand to those who would in silence sing.
But no one comes to silence solitude
While lath and plaster, with peeling purpose,
Drops down, dangling: decay before unseen
Eyes, hearts and minds; expired, time usurps us.
© Nick Shutt 2016.
A stormy 20th August 2016 (Saturday afternoon) in Walkhampton Church, manning the church opening between 2-4pm waiting for anyone to turn up! No one came!