Below the tree canopy spread,
green lichens climb where no soles tread,
forgotten carvings honour dead,
late passed on from board, bread and bed,
still watching souls, cleared sunlight fed,
yet gods remain, wait prayers unsaid.
Unheard, because no god-ward words
uttered by too-rush busy herds;
forgotten task, global stewards,
who court cash, forge fire; sown hazards
which planet spiral, plunge downwards,
self-stain gloom war of doom wizards.
Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales from ministry in the Methodist Church, has had pieces accepted by some twenty on-line poetry, including Poetry Potion; and Gold Dust, The Seventh Quarry, The Dawntreader, Foxtrot Uniform Poetry Magazines & Vita Brevis Anthology.