Body of a Fallen Tree

within a pock, a lonely copse a one-time proudly standing duke lay collapsed a pearly corpse strewn, now stretched across a dyke no mortar, stone or brick to budge a single chain links an area no sleeves rolled blueprint for this bridge it’s not as grand as Knaresborough growing moss along its course this felted dew-born viaduct where mice, voles and squirrels cross the span, the trickle of a brook wind savage sword angrily killed the ogre leaving a gnarled, lost and forgotten auger