Two Poems on Zennor Hill

1

Ancient of runes the stone-cut voice

Stands invisible on Zennor Hill.

I climbed here in a morning of mist

Up over a fox’s or badger’s track

And there is no sound but myself

Breaking last year’s drenched bracken.

2

O foxglove on the wall

You meet me nicely today

Leaning your digitalis

Bells toward the house

Bryan Wynterless.

I stand on the high Zennor

Moor with ling and sour

Grass and the loose stone walls

Keeping the weasel’s castle.

O foxglove on the wall.