Friday, April 7, 2017

‘Dirt Dobber’

In Fairbanks as a boy
Our car porch had two cars, yes,
But something else was there more harmonious:

Row after row of your long archèd nests,
Like batter drizzling gently down and hardened,
Some longer, some shorter, some all alone.

Us you didn’t seem to mind,
Happ’ly living on the rough wooden boards,
But Daddy and wife thought your presence impolite.

How many times did we watch Momma
With the broomhandle, arm outstretched,
Ready to break the wonesteads you worked
Tirelessly to make?  We waited, we crouched
In a runner’s position.  Were we breathing?
The blow!  All is commotion as out you poured,
Bewildered, and off we dashed to shelter.

Thirty years hence, the quest of Science
To alter nature has grown intense.
We mark its vict’ry by your absence.

And looking at the outline of your last
Desolated home, I long to hear you hum again
And to see your works adorn our walls.


Holy Ælfred the Great, King of England, South Patron, pray for us sinners at the Souð!

Anathema to the Union!

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