Longview

The North, chipped and scavenged
in these standing stone days,
does not fall asunder
nor domino down
in sight of barber surgeons
with their slingshots, chippings.
Long abraded by high seas,
we stack lean as limestone,
holding our breath
like we have held our noses,
impassive in the face
of this flitting ephemera.
We Danelaw children,
sons and daughters of the trod,
are forged from such stuff
as cannot be dreamt of.
Today or tomorrow,
hope will prevail.
Harry Gallagher