David Barnes
The Charm
The goldfinches
scatter song on frost-furrow –
a cowbell-hymn
thrown to field & copse,
cast over waters – dewpond,
cattle trough:
The Charm
trodden in ditch,
tramped through market-town,
echoed in train’s heave,
pounding off concrete.
Passing Magi in rotting rags
bring the Charm, like bells, like Plague bells,
to the gates of the City
The goldfinches
scatter song on frost-furrow –
a cowbell-hymn
thrown to field & copse,
cast over waters – dewpond,
cattle trough:
The Charm
trodden in ditch,
tramped through market-town,
echoed in train’s heave,
pounding off concrete.
Passing Magi in rotting rags
bring the Charm, like bells, like Plague bells,
to the gates of the City
