Frilsham
We go to break bread and drink wine
In the early March sunlight of morning.
A church so old its walls might once have grown
Like strange stone roots up from the ground itself.
The story is a woman fled here once, so long ago
Her life is thin as parchment, was whispered down-
A few frail fragments from daughter to daughter
She found water in the earth, a pure source
That gave healing. The water sang out of deep
earth-
A living thing, full of the mystery of God.
Eight souls go to the communion rail,
Slow and old and grey.
Light falls in a golden cup:
Blesses their heads where they kneel.
I go outside, into the day where the yellow daffodils
are breaking
In a jostling of young and yellow heads
And I hear it, I hear it clearly-
The bright chink, the jewellery, of spring water.
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