Top and Sails

Celtic hints by dint of wind-swept freedom,
Rejoicing the throne of voicing season,
Rites of passage all, message clear and read,
Understand by hand so light writes that said,
We are heard together our word flocks due,-
East in a sense released with feelings true,
Come down a Yare with fine fare and be found,
Alive to revive encompassing sound,
Her moods touch; She so hued by sunset gilt,
All’s forgiven where love’s striven and built,
A land called home, comforting tome opens,
Neath velum-boughed Oak of peplum tokens,
With praise, a sunbeam offers dreamy rays,
Now furrow me seeds of hope, our need sways,
Opinion of Spring dominion,
Seals the kiss of this human condition.

28 March, 2015
©Daniel Brooks-Laurent

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This photo has tried to capture the blowing-away of topsoil from these fresh furrows.