Beer recalled swilled Boer suns
in the
backwater inn on the fens,
rain on the
wind abroad
as glossed
glass shone.
He sagged in
the high street,
pension gone as
a market morning,
rain on the
wind a town away,
propped by
landlord and friend.
Cheered weight flopped
in the trap,
bridled gelding
nosing uproad;
rain, a-flick
on the wind, skipped by
the plodding
pacing farmwards
away from footings
in Flanders
thumped down to
muck.
One left son lived
slant rain
on stabbing
winter winds.
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