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About This Author
A changeling spirit,
constantly evolving,
revolving around an inner core,
spinning forth legend and lore,
stories and lives
as I come to grips
with who and what I am,
have been and may be.
I am a phoenix:
rising ever above and beyond!
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Stone Fences Grand Da used to say he 'Hae a good crop o rocks cum up ev'y spring'
and he'd harvest the crop 'God gae him.'
For no rock nor stone e'er picked up in his fields
was e'er put down again
but added to the stone fences, that 'e did.
Boulders muscled by braw young men
formed the base of yon stone fence,
and twas added onto every year,
and 'tis now a century hence.
Stones fences wend acrosst the fields
of thistles and Moorish mist
and they hug the road to the edge o' the sea
where fences end, and lovers kiss.
Stone fences give way to stone houses,
slabs of granite the earth gave up on the Ben
they stand all bunched together,
hunched over, ancient, gray-bearded men.
Stone fences did little to keep anyone out,
but to bind us together did they
And as long as God gave us free crops o rocks
We be building our fences, so did Grand Da say.
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© Copyright 2011 Fyn (fyndorian at Writing.Com).
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