There used to be a wooden fence around the clump of Beech trees which crown the Bronze Age Barrowed summit of lofty Wingreen Hill; the fence has now gone and I found myself wandering into to the stand and around the the barrow. Time and space appeared suspended as my mind joined my feet and wandered; my mind must have wandered far, as all of a sudden I was back, being totally unaware that I'd left in the first place; then my mind does tend to follow the rabbit.
Who were the Bronze Age folk thought so special to be afforded such a significant resting place? Through the trunks I can see a vast landscape stretching out before me in all directions, this place in the land must have always held significance. It's visible for miles. What over events has such a prominent spot witnessed? So many, I'm sure. Here in the clump nearly every tree is scared by years of graffiti, though sadly, virtually none of it legible, all obscured by time. Who? When? Why? What? Questions questions, all to remain unanswered.
Who were the Bronze Age folk thought so special to be afforded such a significant resting place? Through the trunks I can see a vast landscape stretching out before me in all directions, this place in the land must have always held significance. It's visible for miles. What over events has such a prominent spot witnessed? So many, I'm sure. Here in the clump nearly every tree is scared by years of graffiti, though sadly, virtually none of it legible, all obscured by time. Who? When? Why? What? Questions questions, all to remain unanswered.
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