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Lord Of The Hill

Scaraveen,
Changing weather
That is the best description of Irish weather.
Momentary sunshine drew me out
From carefully constructed artificiality
I stumbled as a new born
Into fields of pleasant green.

Yet even here the steady encroachment of man
The lack of beauty a stark contrast
To the natural court
Magpie's the guardians of the gate.

Mocked my passage a warning cry!
Here comes man the defiler
I am humbled and stunned when
I accidentally stumbled onto your court.

Nature scoffs at my presence,
A sudden downpour soaks
Me the chill piercing to the bone
Languidly you arch your neck.

Artificial firefly sprites
Dance in morning rain,
As you stand in splendour flanked by
Equine court, here man is the intruder.

I am the intruder whilst you stand
Prepared to pass judgement
Around us the rest of your uncanny court
Slowly stretches wonders what will be my
Fate.

You approach me face to face,
A snuffling snort you approve,
Rubbing your head against
My chest I am accepted,
Allowed to pass unmolested.

Only when I have passed
Do I release the breath
I have held.

Late night sleep is shattered
By 3 o'clock Equine shadows
On a moonlit night,
Your court revels in the wild hunt
Behind man's domicile.

Braying with laughter
You lead the constabulary
On merry chases,
Ghostlit night the
Lord's of the hill
Triumphant.
Amos Greig
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Nature and man's intrusion has always fascinated me.
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