No roof to separate earth from sky
no glass to keep out the wind
no door to lock or bar.
The chill sky is free to fill space
between crumbling walls
to come in from over the fields.
Concentric rings of earth
encircle the stone eye
where other lives, days were lived.
Altar stone, hearth in the tower
gravel for carpet
witnesses to clandestine meetings.
Voices singing in the bladed grass
ferns growing in the hearth
mosses and lichens on the lintels.
Arches, green fires blazing
the wind the music
the hymn, the choir.
Hear the words, hear the songs
wonder the pictures
depicted in the windows long gone.