Storm brewing, stewing

Chewing it over, struing

Wearing, waning, wing

Twisting towards dawn

Stretching and reaching beyond

Our hazy vision

One land to the left

Another rush to the right

Nations divided

Should I cross the bridge

Or flow neath with the river?

A fork in my road

Hope alone can’t save

As the grey pushes northward

This last wild corner

Now House Martins nest

In this room once loved and dressed

We lost, they are blessed

Above the bush line

Scattered stones and weathered bones

Secrets mountains hide

With an angry growl

And a stern and steady frown

I stand here alone

This spruce wilderness

A monoculture desert

Tunnel vision reigns

As I climb higher

I forget what’s behind me

Look only ahead

Nature never stops

Turning sunlight into life

I will play my part

You’ve been holding us

High above the forest floor

Longer than memory

The rain became warm

Days grow deep and long and slow

Everything is green

Squeeze me inbetween

Floating cloud and still river

The banks brink breaks brooks

Once we wore feathers

To measure our victories

Now it’s followers

Morning halos buds

With glowing glistening gold

Is this story told?

Though May be full out

The arctic blast makes me doubt

I’ll e’er cast my clout

Your warbling song call

Too fast for me to follow

Still settles my heart

We too inhale this

Pungently infectious scent

Our ancestors smelt

A sea of clover

Shows us which way the wind blows

But questions still grow