It stands at the end of a street
(Bungalows, cars, caravans, camper vans,
Children playing in the road and on the driveways),
There, behind a gate and beyond the signposts.
A six thousand year old burial chamber,
One giant stone forty-five degrees athwart
Another four, in a suburban enclosure,
Precarious yet adamantine-firm;
Cremated bones were found here.
We fingered the stones’ provenance.
A bat flew through the twilight,
Geese cried their plangent nightlight summons,
Rooks gathered in a silhouette roost,
Just as they did when these stones were lifted,
And the bones of an excarnated body
Were laid to embered rest.
And that night, when awake,
An owl called to me across space and time.