Rusticana Poem by Neil Crawford

You are only inch deep brother marow
you are just chest deep cousin'coeur'.

In your near hollow pit you thump defiantly,
but out here in the open you would die.

You would curl like uprooted weeds,
dying leaves from a rotten tree.

You are only Hell deep, Heaven high
half whispered soul

An ambling donkey on an arid patch,
seeking oats when thistles would suffice.

A dispersed seed, a scarecrow's breath,
bounty for the crow.

You are only inch deep brother marrow,
you are only chest deep comrade 'coeur'.