Dream


The Saxon church walls sway
from side to side through the window.
We run outside and a dust fills the air.
Crumbled angels and stone. A couple pass
from the high street, eating bad food.
Paper flyers, a festival?
The owner: 'The mouse, a friend to the tors.
The dogs will be set on you if you trespass.
Leave be.'
Mark was to buy it the day before.