🦅

Pebbledashed sky
Painterly lie
The gulls are giving
Up the ghost
Off to a wee place
Up the coast

Where salmon leap
And brooks run clear
And trout don’t drown
In cans of beer
And cars don’t scare
The grazing deer
And folks are far
And nature’s near

I miss these places
More than most
And tho’ this town’s
My chosen host
I’d gladly race
Persephone’s pigeon
Tracing shrouds
Thru’ mottled clouds
Upon your wings
I’ll fly