MY LAND

 

MY LAND

Staff rod in hand, and, on my feet, a good pair of hardy, leather shoes

I set off, onto the bight coastal track, to a view, of many colourful hues

In the four score, plus ten of my years; not a day to me cease to amaze

Scattered along the ridge line sheep idle away their days, they as graze

As marram grass sways anchoring the sand brought in by the sea wind

Listening to the deafing sounds of the seagulls, their shrills as ingrained

This land, my land, passed down from father to son, my claim of proof

As far as my eyes can see, and, as far as the cattle can roam their hoof

A legacy given to me by God, and by my hands, my toil, it shall remain

No; false deceiver shall walk upon her, held with a promise of a lie feign

Every animal upon her, lives its life in freedom until their time is called

Before it is slaughtered, then as placed, upon the cutting table sprawled

With thanks and praises given, for the bellies, it is now given to nourish

Bones as ground down, and returned to this earth, in which to flourish

In turn; other sheep eat the greener grass, its wealth, to them unknown

This being the cycle of life, my Grandfather to father, to son been shown

A seal pup, on the shore cries ardently for its mother, yearning to be fed

Scottish folklore seal Selkies, which line the shore, as fill folks with dread

Who shed their skins into human form nothing short of a mermaid’s tale

For 7 years they roam around in human form in which to plight their ail

Shep; the sheep dog though not original in name, scurries the dried grass

Un-settling the grouse, and the long tailed pheasants they limber on pass

Pleasant is this land in all of its wonderment and awe, thus beauty score

With the musical notes of the wildlife and wind in tune across this shore

This balance of nature, cannot in anyway be understated, or, be ignored

This certitude between heaven and earth, and its forever eternal life cord

Rests upon my shoulders, its weight is more, as embedded into my heart

As I idle the bight pathway of this coast, until it’s time for me to depart

These old dried and cracked, salt sprayed leather shoes shall be left to lie

Staff rod left standing in the lobby, and, with my dog resting, I shall die

My son’s will as follow in my footsteps along that bight path of this coast

Will give cheer and blessings also, as in their fathers name they will toast

May forever eternal blessings rise above this beautiful, and as hallow land

That it should suffer not any detriment, this is my, and God’s command

 Dedicated to my Dad . . .  

Dianne Shaw . . .