Noch keine Tags.
The right of way is fenced
the ground you race across is rough you run too fast
two strands of barbed wire on willow poles
but she flies swifter than the lightfood wind
the poles are crooked and badly trimmed
no rough forester am I no unkempt shepherd guarding here
whenever a crotch comes to the proper height
check your swift flight
the wire lays in it and where there is no crotch
I will not chase so fast
the barbed wire is lashed to the post
oh stay I am no foe to fear
with rusty baling wire
every creature flees its foes
beyond the fence the corn lies beaten down
lambs flee from wolves
by wind and heat and drought
but love spurs my pursuit
and the cups where leaf joins stalk
upon her shoulders and her tumbling hair
are filled with dust
her tender bosom wrapped in thin smooth bark