I went to see the lovely Michael Wood again last week. He was in Bristol giving a talk on his latest television series about the village of Kibworth in Leicestershire. At one point he quoted the historian Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, who wrote that we must 'pour our own blood into the ghosts of the past to make them alive', and in an instant he gave me the inspiration to complete lines that have languished for two and a half years.
Sedgemoor is an important place in my personal landscape. My ancestors are from Somerset and Devon, and I grew up hearing stories about the Pitchfork Rebellion of 1685 and the malevolence of the Hanging Judge. I spent a magical day there in February 2008, the highlight of which was watching a barn owl hunting as dusk fell. Now Mr Wood has shown me the connection and I have the poem I wanted to write, I think ...
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