A Dartmoor Cross – a poem by Tony Lucas

A Dartmoor Cross

Knee-deep in wild flowers 
and fresh bracken, twisted
as if the weather of twelve 
centuries could finally 
warp granite - the stone cross 

leans on its high hillside,
but will not fall, socketed 
by four mossed boulders 
sunk in deep, locked with 
conviction of significance. 

Did they come here to pray
stand in the sun or rain
in view of forty other hills
ranged out like ripples
from this one dropped stone?

The valley folds round those who
sing their matins wondering 
who’ll repair the leaking roof.  
Here, scabbed with old lichen 
arms cut back to stumps -

a tree-stump petrified -
this elemental sign may 
stand for centuries yet.
witness both of change 
and changelessness.

Tony Lucas is retired from parish ministry but continues work of editing and spiritual direction.  His poetry has appeared widely, on both sides of the Atlantic, and past collections Rufus At Ocean Beach (Stride/Carmelyon) and Unsettled Accounts (Stairwell Books) remain available.