A National Treasure


A National Treasure

Fountains Abbey, a glinting diamond.

Nestling in the valley, gold in the sun.

Snow drops nodding in the westerly breeze.

Strutting pheasants squark until a mate is won.


Water flows over the weir, splashing foam.

The shady path rises, expansive view.

Listen. Silence. Distant, lilting, plain song.

Imagine, kneeling monks, devotion true. 


Lake ripples sparkle, reflections fractured.

White swan, elegant arched neck, glides serene.

Starkly naked trees, twigs emerald tipped,

promise spring. Peace drenches the sylvan scene.  

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