A Poem by Roger Noons “St. Andrew’s Holt”
St. Andrew’s, Holt
Sunlight stencils scarlet and purple shapes,
footprints crossing a wood block floor,
guiding the eye to the stone immortalising
James Johnson Bacon, who departed the parish in 1820.
During the walk to the church my heart had been lightened,
my mind joyed by sunlight saturating white, blue and crimson
hyacinths, joining in welcome celandines and daisies;
cyclamen too, greeting visitors, encouraging approach.
On a March morning the interior is silent
apart from the creak of the pew as I swivel
to observe the features of nave and chancel;
turn to study the pulpit, piscina and sedilia.
A building which merges contemporary art and sculpture;
traditional architecture, spanning centuries; balancing
glass, wood and stone with fabric; celebrating nature and
light which floods the spaces highlighting design and layout.
Jesus said, ‘I am the light.’ It is in no short supply
in Saint Andrew’s, the high church of Holt.
Roger Noons.
