This field laboriously cleared by hand - axe, burnings, field animals, if lucky oxen and buck saw but years in clearing and piling rock and going to bed each night exhausted unto sleep and bitter winters frost heaving more rock aloft every spring - now going back to arboreal forest and there still coursing in wet weather and slowly pulsing in dry wends a slough on its' way to the sea.
No comments:
Post a Comment