I behold the majestic ruins
of a once exalted cathedral
where walked noble knights and just kings.
The sound of satin shoes and rustling robes and
the weary knight’s armour’s rythmic clattering
are replaced by the wind whistling through the cracks
in the stone to which the violets cling.
The crenullated columns cast their
shadows on soft, untrimmed moss.
The gnarly roots and fractilic ferns rare
enhance the arches gothic
under the moon’s pearly air.
Once perfumed with magnificence,
this regal lair is now infused
with a sweet moist earthy fragrance.
The oak and birch trees, maple and juniper
supplant the resplendent spires and curvy domes.
These trees with leaves of filigree are havens
for ev’ry robin’s sky-blue eggs and ravens.
Yet the memory of lofty courts
filled with inlay and vivid fabrics
and the present state of lovely nature
intermingle to create an enigmatic
amaranthine dream.
I was inspired to write this poem when I came upon a picture on www.fromoldbooks.org called 'Plate 53. Remains of the Cloisters of Margam Abbey, Glamorganshire.'
Patricia Wulf
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cathedral-cloisters/
