Here Be Dragons
written by: Helen Sadler
@helensadler8
The ground grinds and grumbles under Castle Hill,
settles and snorts where the dragon sleeps.
Red eyed horse screamed, kicked: dragon’s
shattered teeth spat out over rough and yellowing tussocks.
Pick axe and chisel, hammer and wedge
left on the ledge by a quarryman.
Grasses grow long on Castle Hill: around rocks,
scrubby trees. Destrier stamped and screamed,
eager for trumpet’s blare. Granite outcrop, castle’s
sole survivor, trembles at quarry’s daily blast.
Pick axe and chisel, hammer and wedge
left on the ledge by a quarryman.
Rider alone, black horse descending, snorts,
picks a way round tooth and tree. Braced
against gravity’s pull, the steep incline
to the unyielding metalled road, the traffic’s roar.
Pick axe and chisel, hammer and wedge
left by the gates to the quarry.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
In medieval times Castle Hill, Mountsorrel was on land owned by a family who’s crest included a dragon, hence the dragon reference. A dragon is still to be found on an old village well. Today the land is chiefly used for quarrying.
- Here Be Dragons - November 27, 2024
