Green Hench I

On a green hench a tumulus earth works
I lay my head on the steep slope
And look out, look across, look around
Directly opposite, the Ring of Brogdar stands silently
Each stone, a stone of immense weight, a slab
Flat sheared like paving – special stone
Red sandstone and the circle, unbroken
Yet has missing teeth, fallen where they stand, or gone
The magnetic power of the ring is strong
Rings of magnetism emit silently from the ring
Emanating until they reach
The stones of Stenness
 A smaller circle
Next to a lake
Deadpool lake – still – uncut
Reflective
And under the lake is the water to be
Silent, black pool
And above the lake is the cloud filled
Sky full of potential water
And the stones like a moon pull
The water down, down into the earth
Where they collect and lay until they
Are tidally pulled up – into the lake
Up into the vapourous cloud – the stones
Direct all – speaking silently to each other.
Brogdar to Stenness

Triangulating over to Maes Howe
the Green Hench on which I am sitting.
Maes Howe an underground circle of stones
And each stone
Reveals behind it a built alcove
Turf covers the circle
From the passageway underground is
A clear view of the two points of Brogdar and Stenness
Old geometry
Old thoughts
Old plans
Paths to the next life
Paths to the stars
Paths of story telling
Paths of lives long gone yet
Whispered still.



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