I am more at home
With Richard Long’s
White Deer Circle
Which fronts an expanse
Of grass, bordered by oaks
Of many years standing
This is an emblem
Of one man’s idea
Fashioned against
Another man’s idea
Several generations apart
Or so one is led to believe
On first impressions
The huge, upturned
Rooted tree stumps
Are placed, more or less
Where the village of Houghton
Once stood, that is until
Sir Robert Walpole
Had it moved a little further away
From his imposing Palladian mansion
Apparently
Or so others say
It is an uncanny echo
Of Seahenge, discovered
On a nearby beach in 1998
However, today’s artist
Professes to have no such
Knowledge, so puts it down
To sheer coincidence
