It’s because you never left
these endless fields
where an oak tree sails the horizon
like a lost galleon
where rabbits crouch in mad-dog heat
under a sky full of eyes
where a gunshot scatters acres of birds
leaving wires like empty staves
where a road runs straight for hours
towards a shimmering spire
where a man can live all his life
beyond calling distance.
from Beyond Calling Distance (Bloodaxe Books, 2001), © Esther Morgan 2001, used by permission of the author and the publisher.