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from The Barns

barnJoseph's Barn

His cow and calf
overwintered there,
and often Joseph too
spent the night
after a skinfull,
dreaming in the straw
that his wife
might lay him down
a son, there,
in the manger.

William's Barn

He liked the feel
of the stones
in his hands.
He built the windowless walls
higher and higher
shutting out the world
and creating a darkness
for himself.


I remember my making -
a growing shadow in a ring of stones.

Since then, a stone
here and there, a rotting beam, the slate
that slips by inches every year:
the light creeps in. It seems to be
a universal principle.

Stone is my mantra.
Solid ground my only reassurance
that I'm part of something bigger.

One day I'll be full of light:
a field of stones
for people to pick over
in search of artefacts.

poems and photographs (c)2000 Dominic Rivron

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* cello, guitar, double bass