Will Vigar

poet. writer. imposter.

A Psalm of Stone


A merlin whiffles and surveys

a ditch and bank, grateful

for now open land and prey;


leaving bark and sap

and leaf unsheathed;

replaced by rootless fruit


of earth.  Oak and beech

suspire and sing

a bitter psalm of stone.



Too early for dew, the Sun

garlanded in frosted mizzlemist,

Sends the briefest scintilla


to trace the blue hour

as processors slow-slip

through the lithic forest’s


long winter shadows.

Wheeling as their voices keen

a bitter psalm of stone.



Exultant  laity shouts

an epileptic canticle

as wind shivved wheat


rattles an indolent protest,

drowned in hammerfire

and brutish duther.


Its slack maraca

rhythm rings

a bitter psalm of stone.



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