The Old Wild
A whole and harsh note in the hedges
Of winds that wind from the wilderness
Sounds and scatters in the stems and sticks.
The thistles and thickets of thin sprigs
In tough, tufted patches tangle all.
Full and finishing flights of gusts groan
In and over every ancient roll
Of a land lean and leaning backward
Above an abyss of years below
That rise in ragged rocks and ridges
Throughout a waste and wandering Wild.– Patrick Lauser