Revisited

The cottage has changed And not only the cottage itself For buildings exude more than just their fabric They say something about their owners About their occupants About their time When last I was here The dwelling communicated a solitary inhabitant In touch with nature and self-sufficient Sustenance from the land was evident all about The stonework looked as old As the wood by which it stood As I look at it now Gone is the garden produce Replaced by manicured lawn and parking area It radiates the clean and safe refurbishment Of the commuted family It even looks new Thankfully, the lane remains the same The footpath by the clough is still here Over the stile and into the wood Thick with the scent and colour of bluebells A pheasant calls A jay takes sudden flight The canopy is still quite light Spring is still quite young Ferns unfurl their fronds among the wood rushes And pink purslane grows strongly on either side As the undulating path Criss-crosses the tumbling stream Nothing has changed here Perhaps a few less feet tread this way Certainly no other traveller passed today Yet, only a stone’s throw away the mills are now apartments Strange that the flock at the church Is no bigger than yesterday! A less allegorical flock Is grazing the pasture As we leave the wood behind It has been a good start to the year For, with every ewe A brace of lambs So, too, the meadows are as I remember A rare thing in such an age The ancient field system is still intact, and The village is little changed except for the cars So, with the circuit complete, How will it look when next I visit?