Caged by rain, we sit, and stare,
aware of nothing else.
Inclement pulse of nature’s ire,
batters all around
The bothy walls; cold stone, but strong,
Flame lit in dark
as darkness pounds the hills.
Warm and dry.
Two big brown eyes, a resting chin;
companion, friend, protector.
As we wrest a life with sheep and grit,
poor soil and toil
And in the morn the cage is gone
bright sunlight splits the air.
He barks with joy, and once again
We stride the vale.
~
Inspired by a few lines in the Mark Knopfler song Yon Two Crows, pinned to the right hand side.
YOU ARE READING
The Tree of Dreams
PoetryRandom poetry and the occasional drabble or dribble of other short random thought from the depths my somewhat bemused brain, or possibly Brian if the schizophrenic misspelt pseudo entity that lives up there is up to his old tricks... poems from the...
