Darley Abbey

After a break of a year or so in which we amused ourselves by wandering around France, Spain and Germany, recording our escapades as we went, time at home over the summer months is dragging so much I have even begun to write a poem or two. This one is an attempt to start filling the gaps in the A38 sonnet series. Small gap filled, gaping holes elsewhere remain to be fixed!

Darley Abbey

Board A: The Evan’s Legacy – The Mills.
Stand here, before this given point of view,
a naïve acolyte, a pilgrim , who
bowed before these sepia tinted stills
conflates faux heritage with history.
The past is not a present, kindly given,
not fact, but remnants couched in mystery,
received wisdom, a bias, or revision.
In winter spate the river Derwent roars
through broken sluice gates. Framed by leafless trees
the mill looks picturesque, and postcard cute -
the worker’s whitewashed cottages. Some jigsaw
bits won’t fit, their awkward histories displease –
the Sixties bungalow – the past we can’t refute.