For a decade or more,

A wall has dominated the borealis view.

Not of stone,

But bricks and metal;

A landmark to a house of follies.

Home to two-score flock of pigeons,

Who wheel and roost,

Dance, breed and roost again.

A more than grand substitute for the

cliffs their wild cousins still reside on distant isles.

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Now in the morn of septembre,

I stare across the expanse where the

wall once lay:

Bricks broken down,

Steel pillars taken away.

Instead lies an expanse that crosses

road and houses,

And continues on into the sky:

More welcome,

More bright,

Than the monolith that stood before.

To the North,

North east and

North West I can now gaze;

Unhindered into the realm of firmament

and clouds.

And only have photographs of the

barrier that stood before.

Would I have the monolith back?

I will let thee guess...