Where hills lay barren, and bedrock’s stripped bare
let me take you away to county Clare
Huge cliffs climb sheer, dwarfing waves underneath
atop the Burren my heart skips a beat
With nothing to see, apart from the view
all makes perfect sense, rain comes right on cue
And whatever I feel, it’s in the air
desolation yes, but without a care
Where fields seed pebbles, and pastures reap stones
through Clare’s vast rawness, I trek on my own
A whitewashed lighthouse, beckons away
scouring heavy seas, beneath clouds of grey
Gulls are crying, as they happily do
rising and falling, going nowhere too
Still makes me wonder, where I’d rather be
than here by Clare’s dolmens in reverie
Later I take in, what nature left out
my pipe, tobacco, and bottle of stout
Hms
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.
Decades of mystic dreamers have worn the path
trod across the leys, coupling pairs within Stonehenge.
Beneath the Wiltshire skies cornflower blue; they lust,
lotus-eaters, loose-limbed, seeking a blessed outcome.
With longing strides-- they reach, climbing earthen berms
to add their lovers song to move with the cycles.
Some take the blessed day, others wait the pearly moon.
See her so fairy fair dressed in naught but moonlight?
Watch his black-haired beast rise once encircled by her arms.
Back pressed against the dolmens, her heels wreath his waist
as virgin blood runs red like the holly berries
to feed the holy earth, she'll bear his child; she trusts.
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