Turn left a thousand feet from here,

just over the next rise,

beyond the birch tree,

fallen across the path.

Come walk with me,

along the old stone wall,

humbled now, covered in fallen twigs,

and leaves, broken in parts,

but still proud, a testament

to lives lived, and hard work done.

The stone wall is strength to me,

it doesn’t mind the cold or heat,

the snow or ice or wind.

It is all the same thing.

 What, I wonder, did the wall contain,

whose boundary was it?,

how many hands pulled

these stones and piled them

so many hundreds of years ago?

how many cows and sheep did it keep

from wandering?,

how many pastures guarded and marked?

It whispers to me, sometimes,

saying “look at me, remember me,

but do not pity me,

I will be here long after you are gone.”

Come walk with me to see the stone wall,

reach out to touch it, feel the spirit

rush into yours.