These walls, stone calligraphies
of almost six thousand years;
predating Sumerian cuneiform,
built on the tablet of geologic time;
pages stacked above the ocean,
stripes of the Céide cliffs
beneath the cover of bogland.
That book reopened,
retelling lives in Neolithic script,
a stone net thrown onto the land.
And now I think of Tom’s new walls,
the limestone boundaries of his fields;
how he has written his lines into this history;
how glorious they stand.
