The Old Straight Track climbs up towards the ridge,
A tangent to this ancient burial ground
Where Bronze Age bodies slumber under mounds;
In number, nine, each barrow with a ditch.
Who were these folk that lie beneath this field –
Hunter-gatherer, warrior, father, son ?
Side by side in death – was it a violent one ?
And those events by which their fate was sealed,
Are they recorded here in artefact ?
The warrior’s sword or chieftain’s sash;
The Leyman’s poles for sighting work, exact,
Along the ley via beacon, stone and flash.
These rolling Lambourne downs are drenched in history,
Come, take the track with me and share the mystery.
Categories:
lambourne, history, journey, mystery,
Form: Sonnet