Conversations in Church Hanborough
'Buckler found that steeple tricky. You've seen The drawing he did? It's in the church guide.' Outside The Hand and Shears, chance-met, we chat. It's some years,' I say, `since I last looked inside,' While up the vertical slope of the steeple On a snake-slender ladder two figures at ease In the midway air, casual foretopmen, Aloft above autumn look down on the trees.
'You an artist, then?' says one of the jacks, Come back to earth to brew up the tea. `No, Only a sketcher.' Let's have a look, then.' No comment. 'The cock's in the kitchen.' We go Inside, to the corner that churches now have, Curtained, convenient for coffee or choir. The weathervane sits by the sink. `Goes back In the morning. Seventy foot up. The spire At Kidlington's a hundred.' Next afternoon My second attempt at the steeple. And high And heraldic the cog d'or in glory again Blazes its fire on a field of blue sky.
Peter Way
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