Fallen Lullaby’s

the shepherdess 

carelessly 

scatters her lullaby’s

wayward upon 

the ryegrass waves,   

her mood swings

are mercurial,

her tears

sprinkling tiny atoms

on the powdered rays

at dawn,

written language

is drawn and etched

onto the cobble 

stone thrones,

words recited from

neolithic passages 

humanise 

every creature’s 

ceremonial act

from the twist in the mist

to the unbottling

of the chalk fed streams,

under pewter skies 

her scattered lullaby’s

root with time

sprouting 

the most beautiful

of rhymes