Sunday, March 13, 2016

Grey cat at Tickencote

oh grey cat of Tickencote
are you the guardian of the church
or a volunteer guide?

You watch us as we park the car
and as we lift the latch 
below the lych gate roof

We walk among the gravestones
looking at the carved window arches
and the inscriptions to the dead

the moss-covered ancient mound,
the solid stone statement tombs
and there you are, rubbing against my leg.

A bench for contemplation
faces the old hall's lake
and you leap up, then lightly to a table tomb
the sunlight catching the way your fur
outlines your frame.

When we open the heavy oak door
to admire the chancel arch
and grotesques in ceiling corners
you follow and show us the old cast bell
replaced some eighty years ago.

You stroll along the tiny nave
into the chancel - we'll not miss much.
As we leave we make sure you are outside

our farewell photograph sees you seated on the wall
blinking in the cooling sun.


Ida Jones said...

I love this - very descriptive poem enhanced by lovely photos and a beautiful, grey cat for company.

You took me there, Alison.

aliqot said...

Thanks, Ida - it was enjoyable, and had to be recorded!