Amazing Kids! Magazine

Silence of an Ancient Morning

By Kathleen Thomas, age 14, Maine


Whispers of the past
Whirl in hidden stone grooves,
In carved swirls, engraved symbols.
The crumbling brick holds time as a mortar
Mixed with distant echoes.
For a moment,
You see everything through a strange lens,
Distorted by imagination:
Flashes of dyed wool in a rough cloak,
Chants shouted in thick brogues,
Swords clanging and ringing
Through stone courtyards,
Pure mist rising above the pines,
The savory scent of a lamb
Cooked over dancing flames.
Then, the sensations wink out all at once.
You no longer see the long-forgotten battles
Or smell the dead embers
Of a thousand-year-old cooking fire.
The wild cries have left,
And so has the peaceful silence of an ancient morning.
The wailing of pipes departs,
Leaving only the Scottish ruin with a long memory.