Celtic crosses cast pale shadow
from dun light through mists
This wilderness of grey stone crags
or matted thatch in brown
To the cold brook where earth trembles
Find a mountain for your seat
Where bitter dregs may find your palate
pure water still will sate your thirst
from springs primeval
Where Arthurian echoes sound
At rail’s end the sea begins
and dreams of shame sleep silent
that we may forget