The monastery on top of the hill
Seemed a very long way to go
I've been indoors for nearly a month
My feet were very slow.
As I neared the pilgrim way
Winding up the hill
I saw a little blackbird
Standing very still
There were some snowdrops growing there
In clumps beneath the trees
Fresh and lovely, white and new
Among the old dried leaves
A dandelion clock stood out
It's perfection clear to see
Round and soft and delicate
Mother Nature's filigree.
So when at last I arrived at the place
Where monks enjoy their chants
There was a spring in my step, sun on my face
My feet began to dance.
Angie B
Angie B
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| Yew trees line the path to the monastery |
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