It's There We Fare To Die

The dead red barn and dark dead shed, Betwixed and between we fare to die-- The broken windmill fills the fallow hill. In the never-ending wend of wind The salt-spray frays once-baited nets - We thus discuss the rough of sea Against men's centered strength of will-- This spill of will predictive still When man must conquer monster tourqoise blue, Wed by tempests true--to the red dead barn, The dead dark shed and fallow hill; Betwixed and between--it's there we fare to die.