At Warehouse I wander
As light seeps from the sky
Among the cold, grey tombs
Of the ancient dead

In this timeless landscape
So remote and lonely
Forgotten tongues whisper
With the wind through the heather

A harvest moon
Not yet quite full
Is the only witness
To the truth of these stones

My spine tingles
The mind races
I smell the smoke
Of my forebears cremations

And as I leave
The moon a guardian
Over these distant graves
I sense communion


Written after visiting the Warehouse Chambered Cairns on 26th August 2015.