ST.BAROC'S LORE

Barry, long time journeyman
At rest upon the lacquered hill,
Bears witness to a myriad lights that thrill;
A starry dust peppers the evening sky,
A nuance to dazzle the unsuspecting eye;
Vermilion, verdigris, mauve, sienna, white,
Shimmering, ice-cold, with glittering light
Disturbs the serenity of oncoming night.

Below, extends a vast still life
But can anything there be still?
For behind it runs the rolling road
Of the roller coaster hill,
Cataclysmic shapes form gaunt fissures
In ephemeral beds of steam,
And skeletal cranes sweep spectral limbs
Each sleep walking a waking dream.

I raise my head above the blaze to gaze
At what was once a wet and lonely place,
And dream of old St Baruc’s lore
And his dwelling place upon the friendless shore.