The Hawthorn

Kilbirnie

Upon the leaf of hawthorn green
appears a drop of dew,
with spiders webs reflecting frost
upon the bush´s hue.

And comes an Angel staff in hand,
reflected in the drop,
where Lord and Lady Crawford lie,
with sticks and lollipops.

As the sun does take a turn,
the whited ground turns green,
the Angel walks towards the gate
and light shines in between.

And as the dew dries for the day,
a sign that autumn comes,
as well as days where dew will stay
till sunset has begun.

And as the Angel´s shadow moves
along the back kirk wall,
acid rain from steel work days
the people do recall

Her sandals bare, they leave a trace
of markings in the clay,
where snowdrops rise beneath her feet
on snowy winter days.

And to the gate she slowly walks,
her staff upon the ground,
with every turn a splash of white
can surely here be found.

By the sign of service times,
a smaller crack appears,
a line upon an ageing brow
brings a grandson´s fears.

And as she leaves, our minds are changed
but not filled up with fear,
her coming speaks of life more meek
with passing of the years.