Taken, whisked, picked from the plug,
grass grows inside crack walled shrugs,
built by hand by a northern named man.
His dog lays still in the heather,
in the fog,
on the hill,
by the river;
resting in the bleak hill town, morning weather.
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 4:56 PM UTC
Taken, whisked, picked from the plug,
grass grows inside crack walled shrugs,
built by hand by a northern named man.
His dog lays still in the heather,
in the fog,
on the hill,
by the river;
resting in the bleak hill town, morning weather.
