Views And Reflections

Summer

The Church of All Saints Lonan encased by solar fire,
Distorting stalwart ramparts, a flame on every spire.
Slieau Lhosht and Mullagh Ouyr lie shimmering in the light,
Awaiting solitude and peace, in cool embracing night.

The Kirk dominates our Parish, though in a changing role,
Her pews more often empty, her bells no longer toll.

Autumn

The spires on All Saints bell tower rise darkly through the trees,
Impaling cloud and vapour trail in calm autumnal frieze.
Slieau Lhosht and Mullagh Ouyr support the vaulted dome,
Sharply etched by solar glare as the Orb glides westering home.

Lordly Snaefell stands aloof, in majestic, purple dress,
An imposing, bold spectator, but a spectator nonetheless.

Winter

Slieau Lhosht and Mullagh Ouyr peer down through gathering murk,
As swart and laden storm clouds lour on Shonest’s fir clad Perk.
Mark the organs’ rising drone, as lights through stained glass shine,
While stark and sombre tombstones wait in patient rank and line.

The Kirk of All Saints Lonan must ward each time borne test,
Then with unfailing reverence fold her children to her breast.

Spring

Slieau Lhosht and Mullagh Ouyr divest of winters gloom
Review Earth’s reawakening, see the Parish rise and bloom.
From Tom Alone’s to Braggan Point in vibrant living green
From Groudle Glen to Bulgham Bay and all that lies between

The Kirk of All Saints Lonan sees her Vicars go and come,
Her congregations live and die, her bell tower long since dumb.
Still she stands, a stern enigma, before anyone who sees,
The spires upon her bell tower rise darkly through the trees.

David Kelly