On the brown bracken hills blown and stripped dry
lived beasties and birdies all under one sky,
they scratched and they fluffed their feathers and furs
though they knew they belonged they knew not where they were.

While below in false order lived beasts who stood straight
who fenced themselves in behind stone-wall and gate,
they had names for their buildings their streets and their towns
they had rulers and workers and faces with frowns.

And it seemed to the beasties and also the birds
that they lived just fine without borders and words,
so they cherished the soil and they worshipped the air
and they all lived together without knowing where.

© Wolfgar 1/2018

Not a single pin hole pierces the sky
tonight its black as the flat-topped-sea
the gulls have migrated to where fishing boats lie
and the harbors a haven if only to me

There’s a hum from the tavern and a welcoming glow
it pumps at right-angle’s the beer in full flow
though not grape or the barley could sate me tonight
for its you that I thirst for to bathe in your light

As the cold of the wall creeps to my core
I long for the mornings reprise
and give thanks for the days the two of us saw
and throw curses at nights such as these