by Valerie Gillies
Bowers Knowe, we’ll never know now.
In the north side of a natural mound
a group of bronze age cists are found
close together. Within their green bower
stone slabs sheltered them till this hour.
Whoever disturbs and cracks one side
can see soil slip down into the void,
revealing someone who seems to be asleep.
Is she wrapped in a cattle–hide cape ?
Are her knees bent, and her arms flexed
across her breast ? Snugly, she fits
into the valley. A hazel stick,
covered in bark, shows the nick
fresh as it was cut. Seeds of heath grass.
Has her woven cap crumbled to dust ?
We’ll never know now, Bowers Knowe.