Rough Castle by Andrew McAuley
For what it was, today it is remarkably peaceful
The breeze smooths the grasses and rustles the trees
Warm summer air rises from the ditches
Something engages the spirit in this place
A gateway for the imagination
Footsteps tracing footsteps.
A bastion of Roman rule
Unsteady north-western frontier
Facing Caledonia, a people
Not to be contained or tamed
Life was not easy for either side
A tough posting when the wind howls
Many leagues from home.
But today it whispers words of comfort
Mounds of earth hide the past
Weathered gateways, ditches
Faint traces of buildings
Give rise with imagination
To the centurion walking the rampart
Eyeing the lilia with trust
Gazing to the hills at a distance
Smoke rising from the barracks
Sounds of relaxation from the bathhouse
The fields rest beyond toil for today
As the sun sinks and the pace slows
At this outpost on the edge.
Tranquil today, 2,000 years on
But hear the ghosts of the Latin tongue
Carried on the breeze
And wonder.