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.

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