Glen
This open glen was thick with
Thorns
Tis then the white of the flower
hide the horns of the shy fallow
Deer
Upon it come down at noon to
the water here
with bright eyed red squirrels
darting along
Under the deep thorn of foliage
green
The blackbird whistles all to hear
and the light chips of a woodpeck
Rings in my ears
the glen was harsh the sky was fair
and the fresh of spring to life aware
To stop a cairn top on thee slope thy
wet brow
To gaze down to the green seas of
Leaves
Lone and thee mild like the forest
Smiled upon the brow top grew a
Thorn
And here the grass was dry with
Moss and clear
with white hollow turf primrose
curse
ran out of the glen dark and under
Thy head a man burns with fire was
Dead
Like death lips so deep together a fallow
Deer stay on the glen for keeps
