Devon Diary

“Devon—country of

their willed idyll”

—Erica Wagner

Ariel’s Gift

It’s very, very ancient—

With castle-thick walls

Tight and compact—

Not at all rambling

A former manorhouse—

Rectory with thatched roof

Next to the town church—

With its Anglican dead

Devon becomes our double—

Our dead-end doppelganger

The house rots around us—

Our claustrophobic coffin

Then the script slowly—

Begins to overtake us

Followed by somnambulist

Secondaire lit queens