somewhere in an english church

  

somewhere in an english church

in silence

passing through

colours

and candles

and lights

and flowers

and pipes

 

somewhere in an english church

in silence

passing through

the black monks

and the high  

and the mighty

and the lowly

and the dead

 

 

somewhere in an english church

 

 

 

the hanging trees

the hanging trees

gather|

to greet the mourning sun

shrouded in mist
they rear up from the gloom

blackened and ancient
they await the return
of the black-cowled monks