Kingsbrae 16.4
16 June 2017
Weirs
Weirs are where the were-wolves
bay at midnight as they dance on
cedar weir-poles, stars above them,
the herring trapped, swimming
silent circles beneath the waves
while the white horses, prancing,
dancing, avoid bridle and bit and
the saddle’s leather shame placed
over wild, bucking backs, no blind
-folds here, just dumb fish, circling,
their DNA hard-wired for what
Vikings called their weird, or fate.
rogermoorepoet 
Wonderful imagination of weir.
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Thank you: I was writing this one as I painted. Great fun.
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Yeah.great fun.welcome dear.
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I like the way it’s worded
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Thanks: I had several goes at it before I got it this way. It may change … I don’t know yet!
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