A window into history

A window into history

Walking above the battlefields
sheltering in a beacon out of the bitter wind
I look out of a viewing point like a watchman surveying the horizon
Wondering what it would have been like to have seen the signal fire
in the distance, to say the Armada is approaching
The apprehension and excitement pulsing through my veins
at the prospect of an imminent bloody battle
One I may not live to see the end of
As I armour up, wrapping my scarf tightly over my chin
and pulling my hat down to meet my eyes
I am ready to do battle with the elements
But before I step forth back onto my path,
I pause for a moment to give thanks,
grateful the year is not 1588

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