...Icerlation

...The owl looks unsure this tumultuos eve
...the barn comes alive with white
...the wynde goes on through the place of its reste
...to die in the coming of dayes

...ghost tractors plough the seeds of the loste
...again, and again, and again
...cross these fieldes of the earthen and the scarred
...through the frost, and the sun, and the rain

...they'll see not their harvest that come from hearte not hande
...as they travel away into noughte
...the owl sees it all yet silently observes
...because to fly away he knows he can't

...these lines into lande, like fingers on flesh
...touched...and tortured...then left
...turned over and over with nothing to hide
...with something to hold I am bereft

...cut me into squares and divide me at will
...your measures are your ill gotten gaine
...you leave me when the snows they do come
...silent in my darque and in pain

...solitude stands by my side fore'er always
...the crow perched onto a shoulder
...you have broken my will and cut me so deep
...I'll churn your plough into a boulder

...take me and use me for all I am worth
...then leave me for your evening fyre
...the owl and myself are sisters out here
...with the earth, our thoughts and desyres