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ON OFFA'S DYKE
I have walked along this ancient way so many, many times and yet
Today seems somehow different, all parameters have changed,
I see The wild Welsh hills are draped in silent, crawling mist that comes
To fold me in its cold, white arms and carry me through time.
And as it clears, are those King Offa's men who call to me
From that stockade where, looking westward, vigilant and strong,
They brace themselves against attack - but then are gone
Into the mist? And I am back where I belong -
That boring, clicking, boxes ticking, unromantic world where I came from!
©Richard Hill
On Offa's Dyke [1:38] - soundscape composed by Paul Hill
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