They sit round the quoit
awkward in tea-treat best,
look shyly at the camera,
think less about their future
than we about their past
as we turn up crumbs
of their blurred afternoons,
trowelling on hands and knees
for The Stone Age. 

Summer 2012

Two professors stand in the field,
backs to the fallen stones, talking
of granite in Antarctica,
monoliths in Vanuatu,
stretching new lines across the globe
from Troon,
aeroplane routes
the dowsers can’t chart.

Gary Matthews 2012