In bark and brash the harker rests nesting away all yester sap

Atop a rusty old lock the heron perched weeps for water locked from beak by poxy pay and hoof-like feet
'til a set of sounds like conkers, deep and waterlogged and awful bleak, signals to the bird a time to keep
(by which we'll all be in the drink!)

Last updated 9/5/22 02:34