Beneath horse hair flax a wretched creature stirs, off the well marched blood stained tracks beyond the ***** ale soaked house, The Scarer wakes with field mouse.
The dust of bones that fell in France was scattered here to bring advance to farmers field and heavy plough, The Dead are churned to feed us now.
A soldiers ******* boy who no Mother ever mourns another blasted Cannon, another Empire Dawn, his clapper claps to scare the birds Each clattered beat drowns out his words.
Across these patchwork Jaded Hills an echo gently whispers still, of all the voices never heard Drowned out by time to scare a bird.
There is an audio reading available at this link https://wolfgarwords.com