The evening sun hits the cathedral
And the red bricks glow red - like a hearth stone, warm and inviting
and the roof is as green as a cricket pitch
cool and bright and fresh
and over the town, as the evening comes in, the tower is bathed in the dying days light
and it looks as if this was ever thus, England in the evening spring sun
and the sun goes behind the hill.
And the cathedral goes grey and dark.
And the bricks are old, and cold and dirty
And the roof is an old off green
And it is cold
Night is coming
The dark coats the land in a dark, soft blanket
The tower is gone, lost in the night sky
And then lights come on
And the tower is a beacon of light
Golden and bright
The colour of the sun
ethereal, floating over the dark land
shafts of light bouncing upward,
connecting the cathedral to the heavens
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
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