Flint fragments
Knapped undated
Granite worn away
To form steps
Up the cliff side
Sheep trails snake
Towards the pass
Sheep ribs hover
in the thick grass
Aborted axes confused
In the scree slope
The artisans slipped
Away one unnumbered
Night, into the new
Villages and gene pools
Taking up new trades
Letting the old ones
Fade away
Starting each line
ReplyDeleteWith a capital letter
Keeps the nineteenth
Century alive
Cheers to the craft Stuart! ;)
ReplyDelete'sheep ribs hover' classic!
ReplyDeleteWonderful, mate.
ReplyDeletePS Cap the line 'In the thick grass'. Everyone goes home happy?
Delete