A friend, Matt Breckon, is hesitant to describe himself as a poet; but his reflection on the communion at Noak Farm leads one to think his modesty may be misplaced…
On a hill above Martley in the warm embrace of sun and Son
We sat to modern country feast
of offered loaves and fishes in Galilean vale
The newly priested curate rose and at the hay bale altar tore bread
and poured a cup of haemic wine.
Broken. Poured out for you.
An urban death.
Then interrupting introspection Holy Spirit like a duck, emerging
from the farmhouse pond o’er the communion table sped,
a pointed arrow
an outstretched neck
Fade gleaming city temples for here God’s resplendence is.
Matt Breckon, 2013