ancient woodlands

blackstones of the ancient
woodland huddled in their
same white nulled dominion,
goes bad end to end worthless
by winter cold to the touch I am
only a husk of all former will

heroic in conviction, keeper of
the wound silent in weeping,
down to the squall of bone

and the nights end here, crude
as a Saxon, mistral and guttural

fast in the grasp of delible,
 lean and wolf hound to my will

I will be in doubt of myself, forever


Resurgens by James Mills
Via Flickr:
Ancient woodland, Peak District, UK