golf course by foutoux

april 2018  16th

i was here
above the clouds
that stretched
across the putting  g reen
and the flint which
stretched beyond time
there the blackbird sings
and here the man in a
red cap swings
they were here
in these hills
billowing down to the sea
time takes us past the blackberry bush
and the golden bush
the jagged hawthorn
we shiver in our winter coats
this is england
this my home
these my roots
if i could sing as well as the blackbird
or march to the sound
of ancient bugles
well then this would be a t rue poem

copyright 2018