st. david's bones

st. david's bones

the smoking chill and the misty bogs
bittersweet the county dogs
the mossy bricks and an etching face
thumb-labored ale and a fireplace

seven-hundred years and a murder of crows
and a box full of saint david's bones

a woolen cap atop a chestnut hill
the gentle green, the mustard sill
dune and wind below a cotton ridge
along tea-bag rails on a wooden bridge

seven-hundred years and a murder of crows
and a box full of saint david's bones

the gnashing sea against the creamery bay
the farmhouse stone, payne's country grey
a molding verse in lamentation slate
below castle cliffs inside of christian gates

seven-hundred years and a murder of crows
and a box full of saint david's bones

and it's a saturday week and it's a saturday dusk
and it's all full of misted valley tales
and it's a saturday train full of saturday wine
and it's saturday's sundown in wales