BEECH OWL BARN They sleep downstairs, close to their Cornish earth – a granite-mason, his wife and child. Upstairs, above the birthing room, a balcony faces land safe as lambs; and looks into the garden, where the Buddha, the standing stones – even the disused telephone kiosk – accept their places. The husband is filling the belly of the barn with his own creations: at one with woody grains and tones, he understands how to implant his vision there; and when to reveal it. His wife cuts their saffron cake, pours jasmine tea; like her husband, she remembers beyond time, beyond imperfection – where sleeping and rebirthing are unnecessary. Here, they have learned how standing stones may sometimes form an ellipse, rather than a pure circle: how a sapling, enclosed and guarded by this granite, may be off-centre. Their little daughter, recalling still more, knows that all is well. Copyright © JENNY JOHNSON