there is no one about down the back road

just two squirrels.



i wander up the ***** 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



enters



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