A poem to Clent Hills

Wooden archway into the woodland at Clent, there is a carved head of woodsman and a carved figure of an owl on the top of each post.

Our carved wooden archway that welcomes you to Clent Hills is inscribed with local poetry. Read it here and look out for it on your visit; maybe it will inspire you to get creative yourself.

Sister haven to the sweet airs of the West and the East,
your breath of English dawn-flower,
we are safe in your meadow and in your wood
safe among the bluebells and their blue rain
and your stone of stone
being here is both living and dying
the gates are always open, and we don't know
over whose bones we walk, or in whose circle
and the old ruin is a ruin of a ruin
at night you can come out and no-one will hurt you
the sky is very clear very black
and you can see Wales from here on a good day
drinking tea makes a good day
under the window of the sky I can be alone
I don't like talking to anyone I prefer sheep
but we talk to anyone it takes us twice as long to get round
it's just about the fresh air, the overview, the walk
getting away from the perils of every day life
and suddenly there's room to roam, or it's hidden away and secret
like my daughter's red shoes in the branches,
I lost her then I found her
climbing in loving memory of my mother
she sleeps here, if I put my ear to the ground she's there
and a part of her comes away with me once she told me
about the wise woman, and I had cancer and my ribbon is on the tree
I come here to remind myself I'm lucky, I'm alive and I'm lucky
and the gates are never closed, always open
the space is open like a beautiful woman, round and curved
lifting up like a high ear to the wind.
By the People of Clent
Edited by Helen Calcutt