~

odd bless this grim ( a trueish story )

…

the dales are veils - the hills are still

the sun has paled beneath this grey

that here wassails & wails its will

from vaults above upon this fray


the rain is hail - the sleet is sheet

the clouds are shrouds of drunken dim

the gale exhales & quakes the wheat

no bird is heard within this brim


the quail has bailed - my quill has chilled

its ink has failed as curates pray

for gold & ale & sleep & pills

as trees sweat on & mad dogs stray


the nails are snails - the streams are streets

the cats are hounds - the wind has limbs

these days i crave - their taste is sweet

my frown they drown - god bless this grim

...