Standing Stones

They reach away from our reality as if we are a momentary blur. Here by the ice-gnawed stones, my mind is a broken-jaw, bones rattle in fissures of time. Menhir, dolmens and megaliths, under the blunt teeth of ageless winds the stones raise their wilderness questions while the ancient moors and heaths crack open new earth from old dust. Sheep graze around these planted rocks, but none enter its grassless circle. If I were a sheepdog I would bark at all these stone wraiths also.