I work on the Abbey.
Keen chisels weathered wooden mallets
carving blocks of golden stone
dazzling in the falling winter light.
And on the West wall
on each side of the empty gothic doorway
where the great oak door will hang
we take a flight of fancy
the old Bishop’s vision
and build ladders up into the sky.
This is my heaven.
Carving angels like scaffolders
feet on the ladders’ rungs
reaching ascending. So easy
to climb to God when hand and eye
are tuned to the hum of masons’ music.
Hilary Thompson
