White Post – Two

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I’m on my way to the white post again

The white post calling me since I was six?

I follow the dog who is pulling the hardest

I always get to the white post the fastest

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Down on the farm some chickens are feeding

But which way do you run when you are bleeding?

Or when the white post calls & you are caught speeding

Follow the white post over the brow of the hill 

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The white post strong always stands firm, long & still

At the edge of an urban field earth-brown & muddy

Or by the golden sea waving tall in mid-term breezes

The pangs of summer roll on when the sea-river freezes

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We  want you back to stare at the stargazers tribute

Flying high in a sunburst sky of orange and lemon haze

I caught sight of Gagarin’s sputnik once for several days

The young Aldrin stepped on the moon in its 1st phase

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Which way now my love as we stare at the moon above?

Which way to the white post, which way is it leaning?

Which way past the golden fields, in the sun, gleaming?

Past the peasant women in the darkest fields gleaning

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I heard muffled voices and I noticed their dress, shabby

In muted colours, not a hint of thigh, arm or breast

These women are the patriarchs married all to sailors

Who battle the seas & return to their mothers’ heartfelt pleas

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The white post sees them, it’s the marker from Spring to fall

Where the tide turns, where the white line and the white birds call

Travel on then my beauty you don’t need to fear

The white post is still there, its got it all sussed …

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writtenbyedenbray16.11.2018