( as the crowbar flies )


( as the crowbar flies ) ( a re-winging of an older post )

there are moors that sprawl

beyond dry-stone walls

where the heather tones

& the lonesome roam

there are fields that gleam

neath the sun's gold beams

where the ragwort hides

& the blank verse rhymes

there are treetops tall

where the woodlark calls

& the oak tree moans

as the old wind groans

there are streams that dream

as the weasels scheme

as the crowbar flies

far within my mind


4 thoughts on “( as the crowbar flies )

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