.the visit.

there is no one about down the back road

just two squirrels.

i wander up the slope to the studio

to see if she is in.


she had issued one invitation only. a quaint
old fashioned idea, that we may be friends

please come ,take a drink, talk with me

maybe walk with me

let us get to know each other gently

do not over stay the welcome 50 minutes will suffice

breaking cups spilling tea will abuse the hospitality

please come. i have the kettle on. this is not the time

for hostility


she knows this is a corpse road, an old deathway

bridle path up to the church

where the monks walked from the abbey where

dead were brought for burial, pagan before the now

where candles burned

an old place she thought


background noises interrupt the walking tread

she turns to look back at the outline of trees

the scene beyond

hengwrt. smoke rising

smells of warm wax

by the door

she catches her reflection in the glass

wonders who it is. lost in mind

forgets that she exists

a sense of unreality

the door slightly open

she pushes it and waits

does not call out or knock

it does not some as natural


her host is not at home yet

she looks about

blinks noting all the objects

are hers

she is the visitor, she is the host

she is two

become one again

inside outside in


she thought

there was no one about down the back road

just two squirrels.

my sister