Katherine
They ask me Padre what I see
as I look out into the leprous English winter.
I don't see the future...of that I am certain
no return to Court
no contented nun walking here in the gardens in summer.I don't see my present either
the sodden fields of the Vale
the church tower of Houghton Conquest.
All this has become invisible to me.I see only the sierra - capped in ermine
and the bright banners of knights
raising dust as they ride to tilt
across the wide fields of Aragon. I see
the face of a withered Spanish woman
reflected by the glass.They ask me Padre - why then do I prefer to look out?
I can only tell them this:
in the flames that dance with shadows of the hall
I see the flashes of a young King greeting his Lady.
In the laughter and games by the fire I hear only his voice
whispering, always whispering, a courtly poem of love.
Copyright © Gavin Stewart 1996-2006
Website http://www.gavinstewart.net
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