My Land

MY LAND Staff rod in hand, and on my feet a pair of good hardy leather shoes Set off onto the bight coastal track to a view of many colourful hues In four score plus nine of my years; not a day to me ceases to amaze Scattered along the ridge line, sheep idle away their days, they graze As marram grass sways anchoring the sand brought by the sea wind I listen to the deafening sounds of the seagulls their shrills ingrained This land, my land as one of my forefather’s son’s, my claim of proof As far as my eye can see and as far as the cattle can roam their hoof A legacy given to me by God and by my hands my toil it shall remain No false deceiver shall walk her, come proclaiming a lie shall he feign Each animal upon her lives its life in freedom until their time is called Before slaughtered with respect, and placed upon the table sprawled With thanks and praises given to the bellies it is now given to nourish Bones grounded down, and returned to this earth, in which to flourish In turn the animals eat the greener grass its wealth to them unknown This is the cycle of life, it by my forefather’s father to son been shown A seal pup on the shore cries ardently for its mother it wants to be fed Scottish folklore that seal Selkies as fill the shore fears folk with dread Shep the sheep dog though not original in name scurries the dry grass Upsetting the grouse and long tailed pheasants as they limber on pass Pleasant is this land given in its wonderment and awe, its beauty score As musical notes of each animal and creature in tune across this shore This balance of nature cannot in anyway be understated, or be ignored This certitude between heaven and earth, and its ever eternal life cord Rests upon my shoulders, its weight, is more as embedded in my heart As I idle the bight pathway of this coast, until it’s time for me to depart My dried and cracked salted spray leather shoes shall be left then to lie My staff left standing in the hallway and with my dog resting I shall die My son’s will follow in my footsteps, along that bight path, of this coast Give cheers and blessings and also in their fathers name they will toast As my hallow blessings, shall rise above this beautiful, as pleasant land Where it should not suffer any detriment this’s my and God’s command Indiana Shaw . . . -_-