Recollections From the Golden Cree Ii

Past unconcerned hens that distractedly Scratch Under frowning protestations from the Sheltered Lee; Into the cloaked shadows lain across the Cobbled courtyard, Behind which squats the twisted form of The old brooding, arthritic apple tree. Past the neat little cow-byre Hosed and fastidiously scrubbed out twice A day With a fine tooth-comb; The quaint and dipping, straw filled barn Attaches itself determindedly To the crooked gable Of Barjargs contented farmyard home. Those cubit-width walls of Igneous rock, Once weathered and drab, Now thoroughly soaked in glistening white Washed foams. Slated, cool pantry with smooth and Polished marble slab; Where, lying somewhat dejectedly, To dispose: Many a brace dispatched by the indifferent Priest - Glassy eyes staring out blankly In death's stiffened and vacant repose; The early mornings freshly collected Brown eggs Carefully arranged in woven baskets; Pints of thick and creamy, unpasteurized Milk Poured into decorative, high-sided, orange Coloured bowls. Orange like the rusting sunbeam trapped Inside each steaming droplet of summers Oily dew; Orange like the flattened landscape Arising distantly... Under the slowly emerging far eastern View. Blurred outlines upwardly forming When slowly peeking through; Gathered veils pulled back to reveal Wantonly appealing, shimmering twirls Of palest streaky blue. The seldom trod tracks that I knew so Well - Remnants of an unremembered Iron Age; Ancient tramping peoples That bravely traversed - to hopefully evade, The terrible grasp of Merricks awful hand That squeezed the Silver Flowe Into tangled blankets of knitted bog and Squelching peat; Black slimes that downwards...downwards... Downwards seep... Smothering the cleansed bones of this long Forgotten race; Fragments of these shattered tribes Now nourishing sweetest meadow flowers... Where, sprawling thinly, they perpetually Strive To quietly propagate; Sacred memories of blue painted faces The swirling shrouds of chilling mists Do avow to forever keep; Comforting and protective roots gently Wrapping around the sanctuary of their Deeply immersed and sunken sleep. Still onward's flowed the singing river As between her watchful banks she Gratefully swept; And covered by the racing stars I Wrapped about myself - And in happy contentment soundly slept! Onward flowed the jagged ripples That fractured the obscured reflections Within the streams - As onwards sped the joyful passions That bubbled over inside my eager dreams!