Two not-so-old buildings block my north, north-east and

north-westerly view.

One a vacated shop;

The other a sky-climbing and

space-eating folly;

Roost, convention and courtship-hall to

a Cloud of pigeons.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Yet in the space between,

Both my eyes can fly;

Past road, weather-post and line of

ash trees;

Past houses, lights and a pub once called

Cattle market:

Past Dales,

St. Anne of Stanley and the windmill whose sun-lit blades

twirl above an allotment:

To a small blue line that can only be

the horizon;

An old hospital clock tower and

an ever changing,

Always beautiful,

Stretch of the realm named Sky.