Haldon hill hugs the riding, rolling pastures
Sheltering Exeter from tempests of west,
The Cathedral sails through oceans of shops
Choppy winds whip up the estuary, brings gulls
Calling and soaring with perfect pinpoint
Glide.
Exon can be troubled no more then history
Has proven, the stories told like yesterday’s news
Who has never heard of the ghostly monk?
Which one? There are many spectres within its
Walls. Blitz victims still mourn for a city ruined in
memory.
The city bears the strain, when rain makes river swell.
It’s undulating lethal currents, well up lost souls from
their murky understated stations. Echos past have
Expressed their cries, a community waxing, waning to
change. But turn the other face and it will hate your
skin.
Rails feed the city, its monster appetite creates
Need for People. It pays for in expanding its waistline.
Assimilation in to the commuter belt, a bad hand has delt
Those towns that surround. Wedged in to a brown belt, it looks
Longingly towards Green belts, Cranbrook arise and take thy
Place.
Thousands of years from this date, when humans are no more
Will the Cathedral still take its place, a regal reminder of a race
Long forgotten by nature, as it’ roots corrupt perfect flat slabs
And disintegrate concrete. Gorging itself on glass, and the remains
Of an infrastructure beyond use. Only the ghosts of the past call this
Exeter.
0 Responses to “A Psalm for Exeter”