Glen to glen
I’ve wandered brooks
Searching for my
Crag with a hook
Little, though
My hearts dismay
Could effort swing
Precipice lay
For o’er lain land
My hoof she ran
Like orphaned seeds
Autumn’s light breath
Dagger be given
To the laughing lady
High atop as a
Clever tight rock
For no path could be laid
No gorge to ford
No eye to twinkle
Amidst sun-lit wrinkle
Now guide thee home
Pulse in thine known
I hear the clean broom
And dear Mother’s boom
