Jane Satterfield

Archaeology

This is the present--a relic heap--the ground
come clear of history. No sign
of armies, ashes, spines hot still
with arrow shafts.
We skirt the ruined temple’s edge in case, alert
for shards, a sudden outcrop.

Always I’ve wanted to narrow the distance--
clicking off my steps while scanning the hilltop view.
There is the beauty of sunken fields,
the holly and its green armor--
hedge after hedge, inviolate.

The stillness of the obstructing pane,
the ground refusing to give.

Night drifts among the excavations,
the shorn hill’s blank gaze.

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image of Scottish hillside, Darren Layne