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
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