Dinosaur Footprints
Tennyson Monument (The Needles), Isle of Wight
I’m waiting for news I don’t want to talk about
and scrolling through old photos to escape.
After some swipes, I see you walking away.
From my perspective, the path looks up – wide
and long – towards a monument on the green hillside.
I pause here; I take it in.
Your face is turned to the concrete cross
above a golden carpet – trod out before you
by poets and pilgrims.
And somehow there is something ethereal –
even prophetic in this facsimile.
Before the St Beuno’s retreat and the quiet.
It was the day we decided to try The Needles
and to hunt for fossils on the Isle of Wight.
The ones we now keep in our garden.
We had no spades, just claws for hands
and determined eyes.
And we took what we could find.
The dinosaur footprints were too big to carry –
or we would have (children that we are).
Now, our bucket-fostered fossils are
planted and unassuming by the front door –
next to the California poppies.
And we wait each year to see if they’ll grow
like the Dahlias you always call Lazarus,
like the lavender you cut back most years,
or the seedlings from the packet your mother gave you.
I stood at the bottom of the hill that day
watching you with our faithful dog
slowly ascend from every angle – feeling
the sun, the breeze, the firm ground by the cliffs –
trying to treasure the moment and capture it.
Bottle it inside for moments like these.
Miriam Swales is an American/British writer and English teacher. She is also a mindfulness teacher with interests in spirituality and mental health. She is a late bloomer and is currently seeking 100 rejections.