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Ludlow Psalm

I cannot see the river far below

But I can hear it tumbling on the weir.

Amid the tree, rough walls and ivy cheer

The darkening trunks, and small spring flowers grow

In brief profusion.  Here, close to the keep,

The battled walls and greying ramparts rise

From banks of rain-washed grasses to thin skies

Of slowly drifting clouds, pointing toward sleep.

Between recitals, before the evening meal,

I have these moments to myself - no, no,

Not to myself, for you are here, and so

Each sight, each sound, is shared, become more rea;

For knowing you are always here with me

Transforms each moment to eternity.

Brian Hick May 2013

©copyright Sally Hick 20.6.25