RockStanza.Info - Brochs of Shetland

rockstanza.info
    
    In the Broch pile I pick my way,
    Among the places where Others lay,
    
            And slept and loved and sheltered?
    
    
    Hands' labour piled in rocks,
    Broken now, buried in docks,
    
            An old stone man leaving questions not answered?
    
    
    So, for his brothers I now seek
    That of their builders they might speak,
    
            Tell us stories of shores foe battered?
    
    
    But of all hundred Tall and Mighty,
    Only one still can talk in any way clearly,
    
            Of a baron's tax (or trade) o'er horizon passed?
    
    
    The Old Man's beard has grown beautiful,
    Over the ghost of finished lives (lived fruitful?),
    
            And though the years have passed, many questions are yet
            Unasked.