Monday, October 17, 2011


We came, long years ago
Built homes like gnomes
Sod hills
Rustic abodes

For vessels
Sought trees for timber
Soon licked by brine
Sea caked with salt

We made no friends
With men of bronze
Watching ghost towns
With frightened eyes
Long before
Gallic Tongues
Spoke L'Anse aux Meadows

And by our hands
Broke earth
Sowed seeds for generations
But in vain
Neither Christ nor Thor
Would give us rain

Our broken company
Fled to the whale road
Dropped scythes for oars
Swept water
Rode tides home

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