SoundeScapes

My Dogges feete in Grasse belowe

To heere him tiz a joye howe sote

The Winde a Bigge Girles Blowze

Throwe Leafy Treez frichtens us notte.

My sturdy bootes curd and crunch

Farm roodes gritty granitte gravell

A Grumous Musick, awes us claar

And joyes us as we travell.

Some time so tweetly switteringe,

The Birdes now restrict ther cawes

Whiles Buzzardes often meekly mew,

Pretending to be littel-mawes.

A straunge sounde in this contexte

My Mowbile goes with ring-tone vexinge,

A pretty little swing-tone sally,

The messauge though is notte so  jolly.

Brief conversatze, soft Teeres for Two

Too sadde for me, too badde for you.

The Winde teasinge leafy milles,

My Dogge snufflinge onward stille.




Copyright © Donnie Ross 2010