Men of the reed beds who walked the marshes and dykes, great eel fishermen who sat twisting willow while telling tales of monster catches and the men of the marshes who rode the punt gun coil and netted plover. The millers who fought the great winds and controlled the waters, the skaters who raced upon frozen marshes and the carters who took fruit to the fen capital.
The women who picked the apples from ancient orchards and soft red gold from strawberry fields, the fen wives who swept the dirt floors after winter floods and the mothers who lost their sons and husbands in foreign fields. All sleep under October sun alongside the lost children and babies who lived such short lives and left hearts broken never to repair, sleep safe and sound fen tigers, sleep safe and sound.
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