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.
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