A Few Miles above Tintern Abbey
by Paul J. Willis
I’m fairly certain that I saw
the abbey from the air—
or, at least, the River Wye
still gently winding there.
The evening gloom was settling in
with clouds in drifts and drecks,
as on my way from London town
I flew to LAX.
This spot I won’t remember long
at Everest’s height or more;
there’s no dark sycamore to mark
where I sat on the shore.
But still, when on my couch I lie
and watch the NFL,
I’ll think of what I saw tonight—
and then forget. Oh, well!